


Changes in Designation

by Kisleth, Ringshadow



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: #coulsonlives, Accidental Bonding, Alien monsters try to break NY again, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Clint and Tony are Bros, Detox - Gender changing medication, Gen, Get Together, M/M, Omega!Phil, Soul Bond, Violence to a teammate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:09:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisleth/pseuds/Kisleth, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ringshadow/pseuds/Ringshadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the Battle of Manhattan, Phil Coulson was an Alpha agent and had a command of his agents, fiercely protective of every one under his command like all good Alphas are.</p><p>After, as he's recovered in a secret SHIELD hospital, he comes off of a medication that he's been using to hide his real gender the whole time. And there are severe bodily consequences that come from using that medication for so long.</p><p>Throw in the Avengers, half-formed bonds with too many people, and the emotional constipation of just about everyone in SHIELD and you have a nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> We've mixed things up a bit here and picked and chose what we like from other A/B/O verses. The most important notes is that not every Omega is compatible with every Alpha, so when an Omega goes into heat or has emotional distress, etc, not every Alpha can tell, only one compatible with them. Those compatible are the ones capable of becoming mates, and bonding to them.
> 
> Bonding also comes it levels from just being emotionally close, physically close, having sex, and other levels. They will be explained/revealed as best as we can as the story progresses. Tags will be added to as story progresses as well.

Fury walks into the medical wing, not surprised to find it was quiet and damn near deserted. When these things happened, precautions were taken. There is a sign by the nurse’s station stating that only authorized hospital personnel and ranking SHIELD Betas are allowed on this floor. He’d already been notified that they’d had to shift personnel around to accommodate what was happening.

“Director.” One of the nurses says, looking at him. She had been expecting the Alpha and so had the rest of the staff.

“Is he up?”

“Yes, sir.” She walks down the hall and he follows. Air filtering fans are running but they haven’t entirely filtered out a sweet, vaguely bitter smell as they walk up to one of the room doors. Orange blossoms, Fury thinks, bright and floral and clean. At least that’s how his mind interprets it. “And he’d like to go home.”

“He’s missed.” Is all Fury says, and the nurse opens the door.

Coulson stands at the far side of the room, leaning on his windowsill, staring out the window. In blue cotton scrubs, he’s under his normal weight and has dark circles under his eyes. He looks softer edged and more vulnerable than Fury has almost ever seen. But then, trying to heal near-fatal wounds while also suffering a rapidly changing body chemistry was a pretty good double whammy. “Sir.”

“Hey, Coulson, how are you feeling?” He claims one of the room’s chairs, watching the other man.

“Absolutely stir crazy sir.”

“You look tired.”

“I don’t sleep well right now. Obvious reasons.”

He hums. “Well, in a few hours I’m personally briefing the Avengers on your actual status. I imagine they’ll want to bang in your door as fast as they can get here.”

Phil smiles, moving to take the other chair in the room. “I’ll be glad to see them.”

“I imagine they’ll be even more glad to see you.”


	2. In Which the Avengers Don't Take the News Well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished editing this bit up this morning and I just can't resist giving it to all of you already. the whole thing is about 30K, with a side story (with no set ending? It will weave in and out of the sequel and we'll tell you when you should read a chapter of the other one before going back to the main) and a sequel planned but not begun. Yet.

Four hours later, this is not the debriefing Clint was expecting.

This is far from anything Clint had been expecting, ever, and the fact that Fury was as gentle as the Hulk in breaking the news has left the entire room silent. The tension is thick in the air and he knows he’s not the only Alpha in the room completely enraged with Fury. How did he even think this was a safe idea?

Clint stands up, ready to rip Fury a new one verbally and to be backed up by at least Natasha, if not Stark, when Captain fucking America damn near puts his fist through the table. Steve opens his mouth just in time for Thor to take over.

“What makes you deem it acceptable to keep the truth hidden from us, thus? Have we not proven ourselves to you and your council enough times to be trusted? Son of Coul was… is our greatest warrior. He is the one who bound us all together—and not with his death.”

“What Zeus is saying, Fury, is that you done fucked up.” Tony snaps, his feet no longer propped on the table. Bruce is at his side, his hand resting on the back of his mate’s chair, his eyes bright green. “He’s right, Agent is the only one we all knew. The only one we all trusted. We’d’ve bonded better over his surviving than his dying.”

The silence is punctuated with Natasha sharpening her knives. She lifts her feet up and catches Clint in the midriff, making him sit suddenly. Clint pats her ankle soothingly as a cover for him checking to see if her extras are in easy reach for him. He grabs one and hucks it at Fury hard enough to catch his sleeve and pin it to the railing behind him.

“Ya fuckin’ lowlife,” he growls, he doesn’t fight Natasha’s legs keeping him down because he knows even through the growing fog of an Alpha rage that she is right. “Ya know how important he is to me, to all of us. Who fuckin’ gives ya the right ta keep him livin’ a fuckin’ secret? Fuckin’ no one. Ya better give us each one good reason not ta rip ya ta fuckin’ pieces, sir.” He spits at Fury’s feet as he bites out the man’s title.

Fury isn’t surprised by any of this, and sighs and groans to himself before  pulling the knife free and setting it on the table. “Because the situation is a bit more complicated than that. This wasn’t done out of spite.” He says very carefully. “To be frank, there were a lot of concerns about not only his health, but his safety. He was critically wounded and had to be put in an induced coma for several weeks. The trouble is, the wound he suffered upset a standing medical condition, and that’s why we basically put him under lock down.”

Fury put his hands on his hips. “So, suck it up. All of you. Yes, this wasn’t the kindest thing to do to you but it wasn’t about you. It was about him, and making sure he could heal. They’re in the process of discharging him right now. He’s not ready to return to active duty. He’s being put to light duty with heavy medical watch because he’s not completely stable yet. I really don’t want to give you the fine details. He should.”

“He’ll get the best ‘heavy medical watch’ at the tower. With us.” Tony snipes, interrupting the director. He’d been planning to ask Phil to come stay with him after the attack (okay, so it was actually optimistic planning as he carried a nuke to keep from depressing himself to death prematurely). That is,  before the news of the man’s death came to light.

Clint is all set to back that up. If he could have his way, he would stick by Coulson’s side and never let him out of his sight again. He almost couldn’t handle losing him that one time in Burma, and then his even more real fake death… All this is dragging Clint to an early grave.

Fury continues as if nothing had been said, “And I would appreciate it if you were there to greet him when he walks out of his hospital room. I’d rather he not be alone.”

As soon as Fury’s mouth forms the words “if you were there” Clint has bolted for the door. He’ll take the fucking quinjet to wherever his handler is being held. He’s pretty sure it’s one of two locations so if no one catches up he’ll have to pick one for himself.

Fury levels a look at Tony, as if he didn’t see Clint throw Natasha’s legs up and sprint out of the debrief. “That’s a generous offer, Stark, and I’m sure he’ll take you up on that with only a minor fight.” Fury nodded. He approves of the plan, Jarvis could likely monitor Phil’s condition better than anyone else. With a sigh over finally acknowledging Clint’s hasty departure, he pulls out his phone and texts Clint an address. “He’s not going to be able to get in without me clearing him. If the rest of you will follow along I’ll deliver you to Coulson myself.”


	3. In Which Phil has Changed, Clint Accidentally Over-Steps, and Everyone Else Separates Them

“Let. Me. Through.” Clint growls, his hands fisted at his sides so hard that his knuckles are white. “I’m from SHIELD, I’m authorized, fuckin’ Fury sent me himself!” The nurse before him stood her ground. She’s only an inch shorter than him, but her Alpha presence is quite strong and he doesn’t want to hurt anyone in a territorial show.

“No,” her cool just riles Clint more and he would shove her out of the way and run if it weren’t a complete show of cowardice. “I’ll need to hear it from Fury himself.”

“Stand down, Barton.” Fury appeared behind him with a soft swish of leather and sternness. He led the rest of the Avengers in behind him. “Sorry about this.” He tells the nurse, resting a hand on Clint’s shoulder, “He’s with me.”

“With you or not, it is standard procedure for patient safety.” The nurse is prim, looking at the Avengers then back at Fury. “You are quite certain you want to take them all into the room at once? I’m not sure that…”

“I am sure.” Fury replies and stalks down the hall, assuming others will follow.

“What in the fuck is going on?” Tony demands as they move. “I’ve been in high security hospitals but this is a SHIELD facility and we’re all SHIELD, right, so why the secrecy?”

Bruce slows as they walk, looking around and inhaling. “There’s an unbalanced Omega on this wing, that’s why.” He looks to Tony and he knows that his mate can catch the bare hints that he can due to their being bonded.

“I smell nothing.” Thor glances at him. He’s uncertain how well he aligns with Midgardians genders but for the most part he can smell a few Omegas and a few Alphas, Betas too, although he is not really any of those.

An unbalanced Omega. That’s what Clint had sensed. If it weren’t for Coulson, he’d be sure that’s the reason why he feels the need to go in there. He must be compatible with whomever the poor unbalanced person is (he only thinks of them as such because being unbalanced must be hellish and disorienting and he wouldn’t wish that on anyone). Compatible also explains as to why Thor doesn’t smell anything.

There’s a tug low in his gut and a clench in his chest that makes him want to go seek them out and protect them. He bites the inside of his cheek. He can’t. He’s not a suitable Alpha for anyone, he can’t even give a mate children. Clint is much better off alone in SHIELD than disappointing an Omega he might call his own.

Fury only shakes his head, knocking on the room door before opening it. “Coulson.”

Clint shoves his way into the room before anyone else, a weight dropping off his shoulders to see his handler alive and mostly-well when the scent slams into him like a freight train. The smile on his face, half-formed, freezes and the tug and clench intensify. Oh fuck. Fuck, it’s Coulson. Coulson’s the Omega and Clint… Clint wants him more than he can possibly believe. He’d wanted him before but Alphas don’t work out well together sexually. But now… this development has basically cut the big red ribbon for Clint.

Phil stands and grins, completely oblivious to Clint’s plight. He’s still in scrubs because he hasn’t got any of his own wardrobe with him. “Avengers. I am very glad to see you all.”

“Can we move? Move, move, you’re blocking the fuckin’ door come on..” Tony shoves Clint and Natasha forward a bit, managing to slip into the room and dragging Bruce with him in the process, Steve and Thor are still entering when Tony inhales hard and looks at Coulson. “Wow. Coming back from the dead comes with a side order of gender change now? That’s fuckin’ rough.”

Phil rubs his eyes with one hand, almost giggling, but he can still feel Clint’s gaze. It’s unsettling. Everything he’s learned over the years telling him stand his ground, stare back, you’re the dominant presence here, meanwhile his body was going shit shit Clint looks like he wants to eat me alive flee run vamoose.

Clint vaguely feels Natasha putting a firm hand on his arm as they both see the tightening around Coulson’s mouth as a sign of unease. He cuts his gaze away. He tries to ignore it but everything, including the citrus scent coming from Coulson’s neck (and oh, how he wants to press his face in and inhale him and rubs against him until he smells like his handler and his handler smells like him), is dragging him forward and only Natasha can keep him unmoving.

“That’s incredibly rude.” Steve frowned at Tony disapprovingly. “And what exactly are you…”

“Sorry Phil, but seriously? You can’t smell him?” Tony looks at Steve and gestures to Phil. “He’s an Omega. Which is… new.” He peers at Phil again.

Phil tosses his hands in the air. “Yes, yes, this is why I’ve been held by medical so long. I am an Omega and I am... very hormonally unbalanced right now.” He sounds tired even to his own ears. “I took a drug cocktail to appear to be an Alpha. When I got wounded the doctors stopped the drugs. That said, I am maintaining my rank and authority so if any of you start treating me like a fragile flower I will kick your asses.” He sighs heavily. “And this is not how I was hoping I would first greet you all.”

Tony responds immediately, shouldering by Clint and Natasha and grabbing Phil into a hug. Omega or not, Tony has no issues with touching someone of a different gender because he’s mated. “You scared the shit out of us. We thought you were dead.”

Clint almost turns to Tony and bites him before Natasha drags him to the side to let others into the room. He can feel her grip tighten hard enough to ground him and wow, was he really about to fucking bite Tony? Way to fail on him, advanced human development.

Phil laughed and returned it. Say what you could about Tony Stark, there was a heart buried under the bravado and armor.

Bruce comes to flank Clint’s other side and gently rests a hand on his elbow. Bruce is always a calming influence to have around just because of who he is, but having him stand close to Clint also helps mask Phil’s scent. He can’t actually smell much of him, but the void of something. Or whatever. He’s not an expert on how compatibility works. At least the scent of a bonded Omega is always very soothing, triggering the calm and happiness of having one’s own mate close and safe regardless of being mated or not.

Natasha relaxes her grip on Clint slightly and watches the man sag a little as Bruce calms him down. She doesn’t know if to roll her eyes at Alphas or men, but both are rather overdramatic (she thanks genetics that she’s the only sane Beta out of them all).

Phil feels better when Tony lets him go, more like himself really. He’s constantly being pulled in two directions, his brain and all the behaviors he’d had ground in over more than two decades—Alpha, dominant, confident—meanwhile his body feels like it’s crumbling out from under him. Tony is safe, in some odd way. Phil caught the scent (stronger now, his sense of smell is shockingly clear). Tony smells like warm metal and fuel and musk, a literal Alpha machine, but it was all... settled with a cooler tranquil scent weaving through it, leveling it. Bruce.

“Trust me when I say I did not intend to get spiked with a spear.” He manages a smile in spite of the twitchy unease in his skin and the singing emptiness at his core. He’d gone from the primary scent in the room to being overpowered, trying to sort out one scent from the rest.

“Well, don’t do that again.” Tony replied. “You’re coming home with us, okay?”

He opens his mouth to protest then falls short. Stay with Avengers, in Stark Tower? “Okay. Thank you.” Tony smiles and steps back. Phil’s focus snaps to Clint and Natasha and Bruce. Clint looks beside himself and Phil doesn’t even think, just steps over and ropes his operatives in for a three-way hug, smiling and just glad to see them. “Hey. I missed you two.”

Any calm Bruce had given Clint evaporates as Phil wraps his arms around both Nat and him. Clint melts against him because he’s just right. He’s warm and perfect and god, that smell… He wraps his arm around Phil’s waist and burrows his face into the older man’s neck before he can stop himself. The scent is heavenly underneath the smell of hospital. He runs the tip of his nose along his handler’s jaw and down to where he knows the softer skin that covers his pheromone gland is. The scent is thick and heady there.

He can feel something in him stir and reach out for Phil. The closer it gets to him, the better Clint feels, so he tightens his arm around Phil’s waist to keep him close and let it happen. The gaping hole in his chest that he didn’t realize was there, it’s ready to be filled with Phil and Phil and more Phil. The end of this undercurrent of aching loneliness, that’s what he’s being promised.

Phil has no idea what’s happening. He’s hugged Clint and Natasha plenty of times before. They’re his Operatives, his Assets, absolutely trusted, practically family. There’d never been too much of a power struggle. Yeah, Clint ran his mouth, but he had never pushed versus Phil’s authority as an Alpha. He’d missed them so much, locked up here, not allowed to even talk to them and say he’s still alive. So it just feels natural to pull them in and hug them.

Then Clint goes plastic against him, melts in and pushes close and buries his face into Phil’s neck and it’s almost like being shocked, or falling. Natasha’s scent is dark, velvet, leather and liquor, soft and almost entirely overpowered by Clint. Clint was wind and rain, and spice. Ginger, he realized, ginger and... fivespice or cinnamon maybe, like a spice store with a window open during a thunderstorm. It’s entirely welcoming, consuming and there’s a split second of frozen clarity, feeling Clint reach out for him somehow, and he almost reaches back.

Arms wrap around Phil’s waist as another set pries between them, gets them apart, and he’s panicking, eyes wide and unseeing for a moment, scrambling and held secure by Tony. He’s vaguely aware now of a scramble in the room, but he’s lost, barely understanding words.

Bruce pushes Clint back, a broad hand splayed completely over his breastbone and oozing calm to wash over him. It doesn’t work. The Alpha’s nerve endings are frayed, he feels like someone reached inside him and grabbed two fistfuls of his heart and yanked. Natasha twists his arm up behind his back and yanks him away when all he wants is to reach for Phil and—

“Here, Thor, hold this for me.” Phil’s passed off and surrounded by the smell of electricity, the crackle of ozone and storms, Thor looking down at him and holding him secure as he tries to come back to himself.

Phil looks utterly terrified. Clint lets Natasha manhandle him out of the room, aching with every step. He wants to go back in and wrap around Phil. He wants, he needs to protect him and possess him and keep him close and let no one… He can’t do this. “Nat—” his voice cracks and he stares at the floor as the door shuts behind him. Clint can’t make himself run as much as he wants to. He’d must have scared Phil with his behavior. Of course. Of course he did. He’s only really been an Omega for how long now and Clint had been working his Alpha mojo on him. He thinks so at least. He’s still not sure of what he was doing in there.

“Are you fucking stupid, Barton?” Natasha hisses, gripping Clint’s shoulders tight. “You should have moved away and not touched him.” She knows she’s not being completely fair, but Clint needs a little tough love to bring him out of his Alpha headspace. “He’s an unbonded Omega, Clint,” she says a little softer, a little kinder, “you’re an unbonded Alpha and it’s very clear that you’re compatible. You shouldn’t be touching, especially if he’s as unbalanced as he so clearly is. You could have hurt him, or worse, pull him into a bond he doesn’t want.”

Clint flinches at that last part. A bond… had that been what he’d felt growing in his chest? Is that what almost everyone, including Phil, ripped from him? He knows he isn’t good enough to have his own mate or get bonded but… to have someone else to plainly state it to his face hurts.

* * *

“What. What happened?” Phil asks from in his hospital room and out of Clint and Natasha’s hearing. He mindlessly rubs at his neck where his skin has prickled up, a throbbing ache under his skin. The ache at his core is a frantic wail now, and he tries to ignore it. Drowning, Phil is drowning, the world washing around him in a chaotic way. He feels himself wobble and Thor pulls him in, he ends up leaning his back against Thor’s chest, Thor’s arms wrapped over his shoulders so his wrists cross, like he’s securing and shielding Phil.

Something inside him is totally frayed apart. He’d felt this way since he’d started waking up. The first time he’d nearly been in agony, not just his wound but something else, something driving and hot and needy that he didn’t quite understand. There’d been a doctor there and he’d whimpered, _please please I need_ then he’d felt the needle and been swept back under. (Later he’d found out they’d been hitting him with low level stabilizers to take the edge off, then slowly backed them off, leaving him unbalanced but not in pain.)

His brain isn’t entirely working and his body is utterly sobbing for Clint. He wants to shrug Thor away because Thor smells wrong. He doesn’t move, though, trying to get a grip on himself. “What. Happened?” He repeats, enunciating carefully.

“Easy, Son of Coul.” Thor replies, still holding him secure.

“I’ve never seen that before.” Steve says to Tony. “I mean you see it in romantic comedies, bonding by touching but that shouldn’t happen in reality.”

“Yeah that’s a first for me too.” Tony admits. “Yeah, you hear stories about certain levels but…”

“Stop talking like I’m not here!” Phil snarls, and the words slam down like cinder blocks, the hard, barked Alpha tone leaping out of him. “I feel like I’ve been roofied. What. Happened. Please realize I don’t understand what my body is telling me right now.”

“That is not a good thing.” Steve stares at him, and Phil stares back, narrowing his eyes and squaring his shoulders up even with Thor still holding him, more than willing to make it a fight.

“Clint nearly bonded you, near as I can tell.” Tony’s voice is flat. “And not one of those more common friendship-level ones. We’re talking a full-on, middle-of-your-heat, bite-me-as-I-come bond. It’s not possible.”

And just that fast, the world slips out from under Phil’s feet, decades of dreams and desire and panic and rejection crashing together at once. Thor caught him when his knees went. He couldn’t even argue.

* * *

Outside the room, Clint struggles with himself. He needs to watch over and protect Phil. He needs to keep him safe. But Phil doesn’t want you, his mind reminds him. He pulled away, it’s not up to you to protect him. Clint slumps. He can’t even bring himself completely leave because he’d been so close but… He’d prefer Steve over Clint any day. Steve is the logical choice. It doesn’t even occur to him that maybe Phil doesn’t want to be bonded (but really, who wouldn’t? Now that they had both almost had a taste, the gnawing ache in their chests are so much more obvious).

Natasha can see Clint shutting himself down and she doesn’t do anything to stop it. Usually, she would, but right now this would be the best for both of them. Phil needs time to adjust to his body and its new reactions first. Then, maybe, if Phil is interested and Clint will stop hiding, they can bond properly. She doesn’t let go of Clint until he pushes himself away from Phil’s door.

“Lemme go, Nat.” He whispers, hoarse. She does, slowly, and watches as Clint jerkily turns away and walks out of the wing. It looks like a struggle and she doesn’t doubt that he’s going back to the tower to sulk in the vents. She’ll hate looking for him later but for now it’s what is best. She calls JARVIS to update the AI about the situation so someone will have an eye on him.

* * *

Bruce has been looking Phil over for a while to think of why, why would all this happen? “I suppose we shouldn’t be too surprised,” he starts out slowly. “Phil’s body is righting itself and has been starving for normalcy under that cocktail for a while. Most people bond by their late twenties or early thirties. Of course his chemistry is going to reach out if anyone is compatible. Clint’s the same.

“He might have found those he is compatible with before but he obviously didn’t know them and kept himself from bonding. He must have done so repeatedly until the point that his body is aching for it and Phil is familiar.” He turns to address Phil for a moment. “You’ve known Clint for years, right?” At the other Omega’s nod, he continues. “He’s safe and familiar and both of their bodies are desperate after years of being denied.” He doesn’t mention that there might be mutual attraction between the two of them. He won’t meddle that much.

Phil gets his feet back under him with effort, letting Thor’s hands steady him and shaking his head, half laughing when Bruce’s words catch up to him. “Yeah. Normalcy. I didn’t like the cards I was dealt so I tried to change the hand.” He looks at the others. “I’m really tired of being stuck in a hospital. Can we go?”

“Yeah, of course.” Tony nods and gestures to the door. “I have cars outside, let’s go.”

Thor keeps nearby as they all walk out. Phil looks around once outside the door. He only spots Natasha. “Clint?”

“Left already.” Natasha replies, falling in with them.

Phil sucks in a breath quietly, putting a hand to try to rub away the empty ache there. “I wanted to apologize to him.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” Steve replies. “Listen. Can we ask you… why?”

“What, why I did this?” Phil glances at him then looked away. Steve’s smell is strange, bright with strength and power and a faint cold scent like a winter storm. “I just told you. I didn’t like the hand I was dealt. Omega rights have come a long way but I wasn’t going to be allowed to do what I wanted to as an Omega. Trust me, I tried. I was tenacious enough that I caught Fury’s eye. He let me try then-experimental drugs and the rest is history.”

Tony pauses. “Wow. You haven’t gotten laid your entire work career have you.”

“Stark? I dislike you greatly right now.”

Tony laughs the rest of the way to the cars. Just when the group thinks that the dying giggles will come to a stop, Tony looks at Phil and starts all over again. He’s not even sure who wants to hit him more, Phil, Natasha, or Bruce.

Phil tucks himself between Natasha and Bruce on the ride to the tower. “I might talk to you, later.” Phil finally murmurs to Bruce. “It’s been a long time since I was an Omega. Guess I need some tips on how to act.”

Bruce nods, he could do that easily. “The biggest thing right now is that you don’t touch any unbonded Alphas. We don’t know of anyone else who might be compatible with you at the moment and it’d be preferable if you don’t spontaneously bond with whomever you make physical contact with like Barton.”

“I’m neutral territory,” Natasha adds. “If you need me, sir, I’ll be there.” Natasha has a lot of loyalty to Phil and she’s willing to be a buffer for him and to keep undesirables away from him, even if that means that she has to keep Clint from seeing him.

“But, Phil,” Bruce smiles kindly, “Just because you have a different gender than the world thought doesn’t mean you have to completely change. You’re still you. You still deserve the respect you have earned from your coworkers. You’re still in charge of the same things you were before.”

“You just don’t have to deal with all that stupid Alpha posturing,” Natasha mutters darkly. She’s seen Alphas do some pretty stupid things in the name of being the best Alpha. Clint has done some outrageous things just to prove that he could best the others and then not take the prize—the affections of an Omega. He’d always been different in that he had always had feelings for Phil, even though he shouldn’t have. At least, now, he’s normal for feeling that way. She just hopes that he won’t get hurt from all of it.

“Excuse me, what, Natasha?” Phil gave her a look. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be dealing with even more posturing Alphas now. This is... actually the reason I’m so glad to be going to Stark Tower. I would not want to try to be on the helicarrier in this state of health. It’s going to get around that I’m a formerly medicated Omega, not an Alpha, and not everyone is... fond of me. There are going to be a lot of Alphas who would gladly pay to put one over on me, even with the threat of disciplinary action. And there’s also going to be noise about the fact that I’m maintaining my job.”

Natasha waves Phil off, “A different kind of posturing. You can watch them be idiots instead of having to participate. Let Darwin’s Fifth Law of Evolution weed out the supremely stupid and have fun toying with the rest.”

He doesn’t let himself slouch, much as he wants to, and just folds his arms and sighs. “As for being something different, well, the brain is the plaything of the body. I hope I don’t change, once everything levels... but only time will tell what’s me and what’s biology bleeding through.”

“Dude you know we’d never let anyone fuck with you right?” Tony asks after a moment.

“I appreciate it, but you can’t always be there. I have to be able to stand by myself if I need to.”

“You’re pack. We’ll be there.”

That brings Phil up slightly short, because his pack has always been SHIELD, with its many tiers of authority and pecking orders. There were constant little internal power struggles but when the shit hit the fan, you knew everyone could do their job and had your back. And now he has the Avengers, a smaller pack with a looser power structure, but no less loyal. “...thank you.”

Bruce extends his legs slightly and presses his leg along the inside of Tony’s and flashes a small smile at his Alpha. He’s not surprised by the way Tony is treating Phil at all and he’s glad that he doesn’t have to be. It’s just more proof that he’s bonded to the perfect man and everyone else is missing out. “You’ve always been pack to us, Phil,” Bruce adds softly. “You’re the one who brought us all together, even though it is not obviously so.”

Natasha feels the vehicle slow and she shifts her posture in the seat. She’s ready to brace Phil in case they brake too hard. They’d just barely gotten to check her handler out of the hospital, there is no way that she’ll let someone who is a little heavy on the brake to hurt Phil when they’d just gotten him home.

“I cannot help but think that’s a poor idea. The last thing I want to do is give anyone ideas right now.” Phil knows he sounds tired again, and he resists the urge to scratch at his chest scar for several seconds before caving and itching below it. He is still healing and probably would be for a while yet, though he doesn’t have to be bandaged anymore and there are no longer visible stitches.

There’s another car waiting for them at Stark Tower, and it’s a SHIELD vehicle bearing Phil’s clothes, packed neatly into his luggage. “I think I owe Fury some thanks.” Phil stares at the pile. “I think he emptied my wardrobe.” Light duty or not he grabs two of the duffelbags, turning expectant eyes to Tony.

“You know I have people to do that.”

“Well, I’m sure they have better things to do than look after me.” He starts, then protests when Steve takes one of the bags from him and shoulders it. “Hey!”

“You just got out of the hospital.” Steve gave him a look.

Natasha takes hold of the other but doesn’t pull it from his grip yet. “Let us spoil you for now.” She gently places her hand on Phil’s elbow to coax him into letting go. She knows why they’re all so keen to do this. They had been helpless earlier, both when Phil had gotten hurt and when they hadn’t been around while he healed. Now is the time to make up for it as much as they can.

Bruce gravitates to Tony’s side and slips his arm around the man’s waist. He may look completely calm on the outside—and for the most part he is—but his mind is whirling through the situation with Clint and trying to figure out why neither of them had noticed this attraction while Phil was under suppressants. Not all of it could have been hidden; there had to be something they would have noticed.


	4. In Which Phil Settles In and Clint Makes Breakfast

Clint had used his advantage of getting there before anyone else to snitch food and blankets and other supplies to build himself a hidey-hole in the vents so he doesn’t have to deal with anyone. They could come to his room all they wanted, he isn’t there. He can’t face the team or Phil right now. He had been thinking with his damaged heart and not his rational mind. He could have ruined Phil’s life by bonding with him. He still aches for it because he’s wanted to bond with Phil for nearly fifteen years at this point (not that he knew he could have before. It hurts worse because now it’s a possibility that he can’t have).

“Agent Coulson has arrived,” JARVIS informs Clint gently and of course Stark’s AI knows the situation already. He curls up deeper in his pile of blankets, trying to hide more even though he’s already pretty well hidden.

“Leave me ‘lone,” Clint whispers, clutching at his chest. He knows he’s a complete wimp, but Phil getting ripped away while he’d put so much of himself forward had really hurt. His chest burns and throbs and he feels like he need to hold it in or it’ll disappear. He wishes he could heal the frayed edges of his unwanted bond but he can’t. Time won’t fix it either.

* * *

The elevator ride nearly makes Phil come out of his skin. He’s surrounded by Alphas and his senses are in overdrive. He forces himself breathe evenly and not move, to stand his ground as if the broken thing inside him isn’t twisting in confusion.

Tony delivers him to a furnished apartment, open plan, airy, and generously spacious. The color scheme is calm, blues and greys and off-whites, huge windows on two sides of the apartment blaring sunlight in.

“It’s a guest apartment. Was supposed to be, anyway, it’s yours now.” Tony announces as Phil wanders around, taking it in. He watches the Omega look at the kitchen before turning to open the bedroom door. “If you don’t like the furniture we can change it out, just let me know. The bedroom’s Alpha-proof, Jarvis is wired in so if you tell him ‘lock down’ he’ll lock the room down and no one gets in unless you permit it or Jarvis declares a medical emergency.”

“That’s... that’s really nice actually.” He stares at all the open space and air and light. It will take some getting used to after being trapped in a hospital room for so long. “This is great, thank you Tony.”

“We’ll give you the grand tour later.”

“The ventilation is also separate, Agent Coulson,” JARVIS adds, “your scent will not be moved to any other part of the tower, nor will anyone’s come to disturb you.” Usually. But as long as Clint is camped nearby in his new nest… it could prove to be an issue. He won’t mention it, however, as he is a learning AI and has learned through Tony how to meddle. He’s seen Clint lock himself away after the agent’s “death”. It’s only logical to presume that they should be mated.

Clint can hear them all quite well, but as the vents have good acoustics, they could be anywhere. He curls tighter in on himself and takes a shuddering breath. Unfortunately, it draws Phil’s scent to him and a jolt of loss rips through him. His fingers dig into his chest over his heart and a tiny, pathetic whine escapes his throat. Phil. He needs Phil. His entire body is trying to make him move to him. He wants to say fuck his Alpha pride and drop to his knees before Phil and beg him. Beg him for something, anything, even if it is to just mercifully end him because there is no way he’d ever want this broken bag of issues and self-loathing.

Phil’s luggage ends up piled at the foot of the large bed, Tony bluntly shoving everyone out afterwards, stating that no one else’s scent needs to be lingering there right now. “No offense or anything man.” Tony looks at him.

“No, you’re right.” Phil nods agreement. “You’re all… really overwhelming, honestly.”

“That’s our cue to leave.” Bruce decides. “We’ll let you unpack and relax. If you need anything, ask JARVIS. Try to get some rest. You’re safe here.”

Phil finds himself nodding again, he’d been so glad for the company but he’s feeling oddly crowded. Natasha half-hugs him by way of goodbye and he returns it gladly because she smells and feels safe. The Beta is solid and calming in a way that hushes his aching chest just for a moment. They file out and he’s alone in the soft-colored apartment. He looks around for a long moment before moving.

Investigation finds the kitchen stocked with some basics, including cooking ingredients (he can only figure Tony called ahead at some point and had it done. He ended up helping himself to some granola mix as he paced the apartment down again, getting used to this new space he could call his own.

He manages to get mostly unpacked (another invisible weight lifting off his shoulders somehow at the sight of some of his suits in the closet, some little bit of Standard Operating Procedure returning to his life) before weariness hits him like an anvil. He sits on the edge of the bed slowly. He barely puts a thought to his actions, parking the granola mix on the bedside table, pulling off the scrub top (going so far as to throw it across the room with a sneer), toeing out of his shoes, flopping back on the bed, and staring at the ceiling.

He listens to the ventilation cycle. It brings a tickle of another scent under his nose, so vague he barely catches it consciously but his chest tightens painfully enough he puts his hands there and presses slightly, trying to push the feeling down and back mindlessly.

Phil eventually gets the rest of the way undressed and ends up curled in the center of the bed in a pile of blankets and pillows that had somehow happened in his restless movements, arms wrapped around his chest and breathing through the sore ache there. Sometimes he catches the scent again, faint, apparently the ventilation is mostly doing its job anyway, and each time brings a hitch of excitement and pain in his chest. Eventually, he slips into sleep, without really intending to, still curled up holding himself.

* * *

Clint’s never thought himself as masochistic before but he’s quickly coming to that conclusion when he doesn’t try to move and make his nest elsewhere. It’s comforting and pain inducing all in one. He can’t make himself stop. He’s knows that if he isn’t careful there is a chance that he’ll go mad with want. He won’t do anything about it other than going to Natasha so she can tie him down before he does something heinous and attempt to force himself upon Phil.

He curls tighter, his fingers pressing hard enough to his chest that his short nails run the risk of breaking skin. He pushes himself further into a corner and feels a grate against his back. He closes his eyes and counts the lines being pressed against him for as long as he can to take his mind off the pain.

Nothing works.

* * *

A few days later, the ache is almost normal and Phil’s usually able to ignore it. He’s back in his suits, learning the lay out of the tower and getting used to working with everyone again. Tony and Bruce are safe, bonded and so deep into each other you’d need excavation equipment anyway. And Bruce is always willing to talk to him, gently and without judgement, helping him figure out the new pathways his body wants to take. Natasha’s, well, Natasha, and thank any god for that. Thor’s reassuring in his utter incompatibility (“I still cannot smell you Son of Coul. What do you smell of? I am curious.”) which means they can talk with no worries at all. Thor treats him no differently.

Steve doesn’t seem to know how to treat him, sometimes treating him like his old self and sometimes breaking out some classic gentlemanly ‘this is how Omegas are supposed to be treated’ chivalry. Phil’s not sure how to feel.

Clint avoids him entirely. And it hurts like hell.

It’s nearly a week later that Clint finally leaves the vents. He takes a long shower to clean himself off properly. He knows he must smell awful, especially with all the pheromone shifts he’d gone through while his body starved for something he can’t have. He had been tempted to stay there longer but Saturdays are his turn to make a meal for everyone and he’s good at breakfast.

It’s barely seven am when he has bowls set out, filled with chopped fruit, and crêpe batter waiting to be poured and cooked. His sleeves are rolled up as he whips heavy cream by hand. The Alpha hums softly to himself as he hears footsteps in the hall. It doesn’t take much to identify the gait as Natasha’s. Barefoot.

Natasha pads into the kitchen and reaches up to ruffle Clint’s hair affectionately. She’s still too sleepy to be pissed at him for hiding and won’t hit him when he’s cooking anyway. She’d just have to drag him into the gym and beat him up there under the guise of training. She slips around behind him and dips her finger in the whipped cream to test it.

“Hey!” Clint chides, turning away from her before she can snag another sample. “‘s not for your fingers.”

“It’s punishment for hiding and worrying all of us.” Her gaze softens from sharp to concerned when the guilt is obvious on her friend’s face. “We were worried about you, Clint.”

He just shrugs. “I… y’know why.” He can’t be around Phil and he doesn’t want the man to feel unwelcome. Phil needs a home and a good medical bay. He won’t get in the way of that because he’s ridiculously attracted to the Omega to the point that he thinks that if they so much as brush by each other in the elevator that they might bond. He won’t be responsible for making his handler miserable by getting him stuck with a defective Alpha.

Natasha opens her mouth to argue when Bruce comes in, heading for the kettle. She shuts her mouth with a soft click of her teeth.

* * *

Phil is going through his morning exercise routine, basking happily in the sunlight pouring into his apartment, when JARVIS let him know that breakfast is being prepared on the common floor upstairs. He cuts off his exercise early and steps into the shower. He has slowly adjusted to the fact that JARVIS is everywhere over the course of his stay. At this point, he doesn’t really care about his state of clothing.

“It’s a bit of a ritual, sir.”

“Oh? Who cooks?”

“It’s a rotating schedule, sir, though Mr. Stark has effectively got himself banned from personally cooking.”

That makes Phil snort.

“Mr. Barton is cooking today.”

He goes still under the water, swallowing slowly and feeling about a dozen things at once. The main one, overpowering the others and bowling them over, is just how bad he wants to see Clint, and verify with his own eyes that his archer is alright after what happened. He gets upstairs shortly, in jeans and a plain t-shirt, feet bare because hey, it’s Saturday morning and he can be casual for a little while if he feels like it.

Clint’s hackles raise at Phil coming into the kitchen. His instincts tell him to go over and claim him, his common sense tells him to flee, and his stomach tells him to finish cooking breakfast, dammit. Natasha’s hand rests against the small of his back and he focuses on it  as a ground as he continues to flip crepes and keep an’ eye on the bacon and eggs on a large frying pan that takes up two burners.

“Holy shit. Agent owns jeans.” Is Tony’s reaction when he turns to see Phil walks in.

Phil settles for making a face. “Blow me, Stark.”

“But the line to do so is so long, and I’m so impatient!” Tony maintains a straight face for a few seconds and only bursts into laughter when Bruce starts hitting him. “Okay, okay, sorry!”

Clint can’t stop himself from peeking at Phil and his jeans. It’s a bad idea. A shiver wracks his body and tingles race down his spine. He almost staggers from the overwhelming rush of want. He focuses back on the breakfast with twice as much concentration, glad that he’s done a few minutes later. He fixes up plates for everyone who’s there, passing them off to Bruce, then Natasha, then Tony. He fills a few crepes for himself before glancing over to Phil, “Whaddya want in ‘em?” He follows the man’s instructions and passes the plate to him.

It’s strange, being this close to Clint. In that it’s something he’s long used to, Clint’s someone he’s been around and given orders to for years. He doesn’t even know how many times they’ve saved each other’s lives, been in cover together, or conducted madcap rescues. He’s so used to Clint that he’s got a mental filter to the other’s heartbeat and breathing he can turn on and off: he can sleep with Clint in the room and not startle awake to threat assess. But now something has fundamentally changed.

Being close to Clint makes the air suck out of the room as something tugs at him, low in his gut and deep in his chest. Keeping his breathing calm and even is a challenge. The cooking covers Clint’s scent almost entirely, which is probably a good thing, as it is he’s having to put down a quiet urge to step in and bare the side of his neck. No. He’s not anyone’s bitch, he’s not some piece of real estate to claim, he will not listen to his ailing body’s urges.

So he just smiles, says good morning, and takes his plate happily. The finger brush is accidental, a split second contact that feels like he just got hit with a taser. As it is the only reason he doesn’t drop the plate is because his hand tightens its grip in response, sucking in a breath as an adrenaline rush tingles through him.

Clint snatches his hand back as if burned and drops his gaze. He knows that it’s overly obvious and suspicious to boot but he won’t risk it. He won’t accidentally force something he wants more than his next breath on someone as important to him as Phil. He’s still battling with the changes and who even knew if he wanted to bond with someone, let alone Clint?

He’s better off just exercising his willpower to keep the bond back while he can. He’ll have to be even more hyper aware of Coulson at all times so that they don’t accidentally brush against each other. It will be agonizing and completely exhausting but he’ll do anything to at least be able to be around Phil and relatively normal.

He turns to the stove and grabs his plate so he can leave the kitchen. He cooked which means that someone else has to clean the mess that he made (not that it’s that big. He’s good at containing most messes when cooking). He can’t… He can’t stay there in the meantime. He’d rather ostracize himself than make Phil feel unwelcome. If anyone wants to talk to him or eat with him, they can follow him over to the large window in the living room.

New York is still being repaired and seeing the damage he’d caused every day and the people who suffer because of it and him… it’s almost like a penance. Maybe if he watches them long enough and works himself to passing out every day… maybe then he’ll deserve a fraction of what he has now.

* * *

Phil’s stock still for a few seconds before slowly backing away, finding a seat at the table and putting his plate down, before pressing his hands together and steadying his breathing, because his pulse is way, way too high for his current state of health. After several minutes of going through Indian chants in his head, in an appropriate language, he’s... calmer. Not calm no, not nearly the state of calm he used to be able to achieve. He’s rattled deep down and has been for days, and that feeling in his chest is pulling for Clint even harder now.

“Phil?” Bruce asks, watching him. From the corner of his eye he watches Tony stand to follow Clint into the living room.

“Sorry.” He says after a moment, picking up his fork.

“Don’t apologize, you just looked.. distressed.”

“Yes.” He finally admitted. “Since you pulled Clint and I apart in the hospital my state of mind has not been the best.”

Natasha looks Phil over sharply, considering. “If you wish to discuss it, later, I’m willing to be a listening ear.” She’s trying very hard not to take any sides, but she personally thinks that if these two would just get their heads out of their asses and mate already… she’ll just have to keep rooting for her idiots.

Steve is not so subtly listening, but Phil doesn’t care, they were all sitting at the same table anyway. “I have to check back in with the SHIELD clinic tomorrow anyway. I’ll bring it up with them.” Phil finally says, focusing on his food. “I can’t drive yet, though. Still too many painkillers in my system.”

“I could give you a ride, I have a car downstairs.” Steve offers.

“I don’t think I’m entirely comfortable with that.” Phil shakes his head, swallowing hard, not even wanting to imagine being trapped in the cabin of a car with Steve’s scent looming.“No offense.”

“None taken.”

“I’ll give you a lift.”  Bruce replies gently. “I’d like to speak to the doctors as well if you don’t mind, since we’re monitoring you.”

“No, that makes sense.” Phil agrees.

Natasha sets her empty plate in the sink and fixes herself a cup of coffee. She sits at Phil’s side and relaxes into the chair to emanate a calm presence as best as she can between Phil and Steve. She’s half tempted to glare at the Alpha but she’ll just have to best him on the mats later. “If you’d like, I can come with you two.”

“If you like, I wouldn’t mind the support at all.” Phil admits, looking at Natasha. Her presence helps relieve a little bit of frazzled feeling on the edges of his nerves. “I’m going to have to ask questions about this whole situation and I’m not sure I want the answers, emotionally.”

Natasha slowly leans closer and gently bumps her shoulder to Phil’s. It’s her way of saying “I’m here for you”. She’s used the gesture plenty of times before with both Phil and Clint. They were here boys—even though Clint had protested and said they were her men, she still calls them her boys.

“So when’s your appointment?” Bruce looks at Phil.

He shrugs. “I can come in anytime today. They’re not heavily scheduled. You want to go ahead and get it over with? Might as well.”

“Yeah, let me just go tell Tony.” Bruce stands and leaves the room, listening to the two Alphas talk. He doesn’t want to interrupt, not while Clint is getting what sounds to be a really large load off of his shoulders. He’ll keep quiet about it and just observe from both sides and not share secrets. For now.


	5. In Which Clint Vents His Issues to Tony and Tony Realizes How Fucked Up Things Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is almost entirely Clint and Tony. The next will have Phil's side of things.

Tony moves to stand near Clint, looking at him as he eats. “You’re good at these.” He says after a few minutes. “...You okay, man?”

“No.” Clint says simply. He stuffs a large bite of blueberries and whipped cream and crepe into his mouth. When Tony doesn’t back away he sits close to the window and sets his plate on the floor. He smacks his head back against the glass hard enough to hurt but it doesn’t distract the pain in his chest.

“City’s fucked up, my fault. Helicarrier’s fucked up, my fault. Buncha people who didn’t die but got fucked up, my fault. Phil technically dyin’, my fault.” His voice cracks. He hits his head again as short nails dig into his palms. “But it gets worse,” he chokes out. “Before, I could deal. I could deal wi’ the fact tha’ I was the most fucked up Alpha ever ‘cause I was completely gone for another Alpha. I could deal wi’ the fact tha’ even if I was compatible wi’ an Omega, they—or any other on this fuckin’ planet—wouldn’t want me ‘cause I shoot blanks.” And doesn’t he hate himself that he’s sterile. He’d give anything… “No, the man I love almost fuckin’ dies an’ when he comes back suddenly he’s an Omega.”

He doesn’t pause long enough for Tony to speak. “He’s an Omega an’ the first I’ve been compatible wi’ since I joined SHIELD. ‘s really fuckin’ lonely when ya never encounter someone your compatible wi’, Tony. An’ then there he is an’ I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I do him. Fuck, ‘s to the point tha’ we almost bonded by touchin’ an’ not wi’ raucous sex like everyone else on the fuckin’ planet. I’ve been starved for him for so long an’ it was possible he was the same for me but…”

He hits his head again, “But ‘s ruined. He flinches back from me an’ I spend all my energy tryin’ to stop a bond from happenin’. An’ motherfuckin’ Steve, Mr fuckin’ Perfect an’ Captain fuckin’ America to boot _is_ compatible too an’ _he’s_ not almost bondin' with a touch an’…” His voice fails him. “I can’t stay here, Tony. Either we’re gonna bond on accident an’ he’ll hate me for every day we’re bonded, or Steve’s gonna get him an’ I’ll have to watch the only man who’s ever thought my existence wasn’t a waste an’ that I might be worth somethin’ be with someone I have to take orders from an’ be forever alone again, or, the very likely, I’m gonna die from how much this takes outta me.”

Clint does look exhausted. He’s paler than normal and has dark circles under his eyes. It’s easy enough to assume he’d just not been sleeping while he hid in the vents but if he’s constantly fighting this strong desire and need for Phil to be his and to be Phil’s in return... “My body is starvin’ for this so hard tha’ food holds no interest an’ forcin’ myself jus’ makes me sick it up later.”

“Okay, whoa, wait, back the fuck up there a bit.” Tony says after standing stock still through his rant, staring at Clint with his mouth hanging open. He plops down on the floor next to him, setting his plate aside. “First of all, none of this... the city, the helicarrier, the deaths and injuries... none of this is your fault, do you understand? It was Loki. You had no control over yourself and if you hadn’t been standing there, it would have been someone else. It might have been Hill, or Coulson, or fuck, even Fury okay? The only thing you are guilty of is being in the wrong place at the wrong time and that’s because you were trying to fight. Trying to defend your friends.”

Tony pauses to quickly shovel bite of crepe in his mouth. “Second of all, Phil? What happened to him was absolutely no one’s fault but his, the fucking idiot. Much as we love him, he walked into that situation alone with a weapon he wasn’t sure would suffice. Fine, he has some clanging brass ones, fine, he was trying to gain control of the situation and help Thor, but Thor’s mildly indestructible and Phil is NOT. What the hell was he thinking?”

His face softens and he sighs. “As for the rest, god damn Clint. Why didn’t you talk to him a long time ago? For the record, I know exactly what it’s like to go years without finding anyone compatible. Yeah, I’m a lucky son of a bitch now but... it took a long time. So I can sympathize.” He pauses and takes a breath. “I’m going to guess he’s a little freaked out right now and that’s why he’s flinching away. I pulled him back at the clinic because I didn’t want him sucked into something he won’t understand right now, no offense. He’s way out of whack. Whatever you’re feeling, he’s probably got it five fold because of his situation. So yes it probably is better until he normalizes some but you need to talk to him. You’re making some awful assumptions and that’s not going to help either of you.”

“He already knows I was a circus freak, Tony. Isn’t tha’ enough of a freak to be? Add in the sterility an’ that I fuckin’ fell in love with another Alpha? Most would ostracize me in a fuckin’ heartbeat. At least as friends I have him in my life. I don’t think could bear it wi’out.” He looks at his crepes but his stomach lurches and he turns his back on them.

“I don’t want him ta be stuck wi’ me. I really don’t. He’s been a Cap fanboy since before I knew him. They’re compatible. I wish ‘em happiness.” He sounds very gloomy as he wraps his arms around his folded legs, his knees under his chin. “An’ I don’t think he’s got what I do, ‘specially not five-fold. I have to fight a bond tha’ at this point could probably form if he touched me for more’n two seconds. I gotta hold all that back almost fuckin’ 24/7. He doesn’t.”

“Sometimes people do fall in love with matching genders. It’s hard to balance from what I understand but it happens, and some people can really make it work. I’ve got a pair of managers in SI who are married Alphas and they are formidable. It’s unusual yeah but it’s not crazy, and that’s besides the point because you fell in love with an Omega. And yeah, he was medicated, and yeah he put one over on all of us... but you’ve known him longest. Probably been the closest of any of us. I bet on some level your body knew what was going there if your brain didn’t.” Because if this is how Phil smells now, Tony didn’t even want to know what he’d smell like when he hit heat. That was going to fuck up the entire tower, shielded ventilation or no. Even on medication, he doubted the entire smell was gone.

“And that’s my point. He knows you, and he doesn’t seem to judge you at all, why would he start now, right? As for Steve, yeah. I get your point, but Phil’s not done anything but carry on the most casual of conversations so far. it’s not like they’re reenacting Much Ado About Nothing across the rooftop, sunshine.” He pauses, tapping his fork on his plate, then got his phone out and fiddled with it before showing Clint a graph. “This is JARVIS tracking Phil, day to day, hour to hour. The blue line is a standard Omega for Phil’s age. The red line is what Phil is actually clipping at.”

The blue line shows a relatively stable and lower rate of pheromones, naturally rising and falling throughout the day. Phil’s is a crazy red line with peaks and valleys, floating about twenty to twenty five percent higher than standard. “That is what he’s dealing with Clint, and I can’t imagine how uncomfortable it is for him. He’s got the production of a full adult about a week outside heat, or alternatively, a nineteen year old.”

“I can’t even have a casual conversation. I keep on gettin’ dragged inta almost bonding with him if we’re across a room from each other. Steve’s better’n me in every way an’ he’s not all psychotic bond-happy like I apparently am. He’s the better choice.” Clint hangs his head but does look at the graph, wincing in sympathy.

Tony sighs and rubs his eyes. “I really don’t know what else to tell you, Clint. I just don’t think you should throw in the towel this early. Just my opinion.”

“Yeah… maybe,” Clint won’t, but he won’t tell Tony that either. He tugs at his hair and sighs. “I miss my best friend,” he mutters. He’s laying just about everything out to Tony, why not keep going? He needs someone to talk to and at least the older man won’t hit him and call him mean things in Russian. “I jus’ wanna be able to talk to him but everythin’ between us is so… so fuckin’ FUBAR. I can’t even be alone in a room wi’ him wi’out one of us gettin’ freaked by this fuckin’ bondin’ bullshit an’ runnin’ off. I’m so goddamnfuckin’ tired of it.”

“I’m not even going to try to claim I’ve been in anything near the position you’re in.” Tony shifts his dishes and moves to sit beside Clint. “But yeah, that aspect of all this kind of sucks. I swear if you guys keep it up I’m building a room with a sheet of safety glass down the middle so you can get visual feedback and talk to each other but not have scents interrupting logical thought.”

“I don’t think anyone has been in somethin’ like I am in righ’ now. Or Phil.” Even just saying his name makes Clint’s heartbeat increase and he tells Tony so. He’s the for-great-science! guy, so giving him any kinds of clues about everything might help him figure all this out.

“That’s.. really strange.” Tony looks at Clint thoughtfully and ponders adding him to the medical tracking. It might be interesting to see his graphs alongside Phil’s.

Clint braces himself when he finally spots Bruce. The Omega comes into the room, his eyes solely on Tony and Clint knows that whatever it is, it’s about Phil.

Bruce figures this is as good a time as any to interrupt. “Tony? I’m going with Phil to his doctor’s appointment.”

Nothing happens when the other man says his name, however, making Clint wonder.

“Good, maybe we’ll have a better idea of what’s going on.” Tony nods, watching him go with a fond smile. He turns back to Clint. “Would you argue if I added you to monitoring? Not trying to invade your privacy, just trying to work out what’s going on.”

“Huh, wha—?” Clint had been lost in thought about why Phil’s name hasn’t affected him when Bruce had said it. He blinks, “yeah, sure. Uh, nothin’ happened when Bruce said ‘Phil’,” there goes his heart, “Only when I do, I guess?”

“So, question. Is it only when you say it, or when you think about him? Like, focus on him?” Tony rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Uh…” Clint’s not sure, he’s never—he sucks in a sharp breath as pain catches him off-guard  He lifts his hand to his chest, gently pressing on his sternum as his chest feels like it’s being squeezed by several metal bands. His breath leaves him for a moment and all he can do if stare at the ground and hope that it passes or he gets used to it.

It’s the latter.

“Both, I think.” His voice is tight. “My chest feels tight right now. Not… not quite pain but similar.” Loss. It feels like the greatest loss he could ever suffer and he isn’t sure what it could be.

“Forgive me if this is not my place, sir, but Agent Coulson is suffering the same thing.” JARVIS says quietly on the overhead in the room Tony and Clint are in. Tony’s phone chimes, and he looks at it, watching JARVIS pull up graphs for Clint next to Phil’s along with heart rates.

“This really is something I’d rather read about in a medical journal than watch happen.” Tony mutters, looking at his phone, then Clint, and back again.

“Wha’?” Clint can’t really see too much of the screen around Tony’s hand. Seeing it from the wrong side doesn’t really hep that much either but… it looks like his heart rate is more or less in sync with Phil’s. The pattern is identical where it spikes and dips, if not the rate of each point. “Wha’s happenin’?”

Tony looks at Clint a moment, then just passed the phone over. “I should have stuck you under monitoring the minute we got back from the hospital. I would love to have that data right now, because your bodies are up to something very, very interesting.”

The phone data isn’t really telling him too much but… it’s weird to be so in sync with someone else, right? “Tony, what the fuck is goin’ on?” Tony has to have some kind of clue. He’s Tony, he’s brilliant and he’ll know the answers to all of Clint’s problems.

“Bonded people can do this.” Tony finally said, looking at the graphs. “Resting heart rates can match up, things like that. It’s part of the biochemistry thing. But I’ve never seen pain or discomfort before.”

Clint tries not to rear back at that. “But we’re not. We’re not bonded any more than I am with all of the Avengers. Jus’ friends. We’ve been stopped from goin’ any further like… fuck, two times now? More? I don’t even fuckin’ know, but we can’t be bonded. Not even a li’l bit.” He’s shaking and he doesn’t even know it. His pulse jumps hard enough in his throat that he could feel it. “Is tha’ even fuckin’ possible? Bein’ a li’l bonded?” He barks a laugh and turns away to pace, worrying his hands through his hair.

Tony stared at his phone as it chirped and showed Clint’s pulse spiking dramatically, then on about a two second delay Phil’s sped up as well until it matched. “Clint. Calm down. Breathe. Your heartrate is indeed affecting Phil and he really doesn’t need more stress.”

Clint almost snaps that he himself probably could deal without the stress too, but instead he flops onto the couch and pulls his legs up to his chest to wrap his arms around them. He takes the slowest (not very slow at all) gulps of air that he can manage and just makes himself light-headed. He’s trying at least.

“If I may, sir?” JARVIS asked.

“Go ahead, JARVIS.”

“Mr. Barton, it is possible to, in your words, be a ‘little bonded.’ It’s usually seen in younger individuals. It’s called an interrupted, or aborted, bond. Teenagers are usually given medicine that severs it, but I’ve looked at them and it’s my opinion that Agent Coulson should not be put at risk of the drug’s side effects at this time.” JARVIS pauses. “To put it simply, there are several stages of biochemical change that happens during the final bond unlike others which just require touch, or a shared event. Switches to be flipped, if you will. Glandular release during an Omega’s orgasm during heat is simply the final and most major one. It’s possible that you and Agent Coulson managed to, ahem, flip several of the first switches before you were pulled apart. So you’re basically both laboring under a chemical addiction withdrawal.”

Thankfully, JARVIS talking to him directly this time doesn’t make him jump. “I…” Clint brows furrow. “I’ve been through tha’ before, Jarv, an’ it felt nothin’ like this.” He’d almost bonded with a couple of people during his circus days but decided against it because he hadn’t wanted to stay in the carnie life for as long as he lived. “Is… is there anythin’ I can do to release him from this?” He hadn’t wanted to trap Phil in a bond with him and he’d done it anyway (even though Phil had initiated the contact, Clint is fine with taking all the blame on himself). There had to be something he could do.

“Time changes everyone, Mr. Barton. You’re older. Your body isn’t rebounding like it was when you were young. It’s also possible this went deeper than you intended.” JARVIS is calm. “The medication really does not seem like an option here but I will look further into it. Theoretically both of you should rebound eventually, however, it’s possible that the effect is being drug out by physical contact.”

“You guys bumped when Phil got his breakfast.” Tony blinked. “Restarted the cycle.” He pauses, then looks at Clint. “I’m starting to regret pulling Phil back at the hospital. Honestly I think most of us are rooting for you both anyway.”

Clint heart throbs painfully. He bites down any protest to stopping all physical contact—although he’s already been doing it as best as he can. “I hate this.” Everything is just so fucking unfair. “I can’t even fuckin’ touch my best friend. I can’t see him or hear him wi’out the overwhelmin’ urge to throw myself at him an’ do every single Alpha instinct thing my body tells me. ‘s not even the sex. Hardly even tha’. I wanna take care of him. Wanna make sure he eats healthy an’ gets enough sleep an’ heals from…” The reminds that Phil is still healing on top of all the shit they’re going through chokes him up. “Fuck this. Fuck everything.”

It’s not the first time Clint wished he’d never been born and he knows it won’t be the last. He swallows passed the sick taste in his throat and sighs. “Jarv, if there’s anythin’ I can do that only I can do. Anythin’ ta cut me off from him an’ make his life better.” Even if it hurts Clint. He’s pretty numb at the moment. Phil isn’t around, so he could relax his grip on the barriers he’s put up to keep himself from accidentally bonding with Phil. At the same time he doesn’t trust himself. Not even enough to sleep.

Tony opens his mouth to speak when his phone chimes and he looks to see a call from Natasha. Tony has a feeling he might not like what he’s about to hear.  He doesn’t get a chance to speak. She just confirms his theory that Phil is going through the same thing and would he please knock Clint out?

The words are barely out of Natasha’s mouth and into Tony’s ear before JARVIS speaks again, in a calm soft voice. “There is something you can do to help Agent Coulson, Mr. Barton.” JARVIS activates some of the interior defenses of the tower and a tranquilizer dart zips out and into Clint’s neck. Tony gaped, watching Clint slump on the couch. He goes limp so fast that he practically melts onto the floor. “JARVIS, that was not very nice.”

“His heart rate is slowing now, sir. That will help Agent Coulson, as well as Mr. Barton, because he has barely slept.”

“Right, right…” Tony shakes his head and walks back to the dining area. “Hey, Steve, can I borrow your strong arms? JARVIS just knocked Clint out and he really needs a bed, and I can’t carry him.”

“Run that by me again?” Steve asks, staring at him. Tony snorts and Steve gets up, sighing.


	6. In Which the Incomplete Bond is Troublesome for Both Parties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Phil's side—although very brief—of what happened last chapter during breakfast and the following.

Natasha follows Phil out, guarding his back. She peeks in on Clint as they pass the doorway because he didn’t look good earlier. He’s paler than he should be and tired-looking and a little more high-strung than usual. They really need to fix this mess before the physical stress takes its toll on her two most important people.

Phil smiles back at Natasha, because who else would he want at his back, really, and follows Bruce once he returns. The ache hits him on the elevator, significant enough he actually puts a hand to his chest, a not-subtle pull through his whole body and an itchy desire to go back upstairs. Like a craving, he thought. Like caffeine headaches after going without for days and catching the scent of coffee, but this was dialed to eleven, bone deep.

“Hey. Phil. Is it your chest?” Bruce shakes his shoulder, and watches Phil tune back in to reality. The older man’s eyes had gone unfocused while one hand clutched into his shirt in a not entirely under control sort of way, and it was frankly a worrisome sight. Especially combined with a sudden hormone swing that he could smell pouring off the other man, Phil’s scent suddenly more sharp, more bitter and all Bruce smells is... illness. The imbalance was more off point.

“Not my wound.” Phil shook his head.

Natasha places a hand on Phil’s wrist to do what she can for him. She’s a tactile creature through simple and calming touches. Hopefully this can help aid Phil in some way. “Is it sharp or dull pain? Constant or throbbing?”

“Tightness.” Phil almost wheezes and is so glad for Natasha’s touch, it grounds him for now. “It’s a... tense soreness? An ache, going to my heartbeat. And it’s kind of getting worse.”

The elevator opens into the garage and Bruce leads them out, keeping close in case Phil needs help because he really wants to get Phil to a doctor.

Natasha can see Phil relax just slightly and she moves closer to stroke her hand along his upper back. Whatever she can do to help. She has no idea what’s going on and it scares her. She doesn’t like this being helpless thing. She doesn’t want to just watch Phil and Clint hurt.

Phil considers, then gets in the back of Bruce’s car, pulling Natasha in after him because her presence is helping. “Not intending on turning you into a chauffeur or anything, Bruce...”

Bruce half laughed. “No, it’s fine. However you’re comfortable Phil.”

“How would you like me, sir?” Is out of her mouth because Natasha can stop and turn on her brain-to-mouth filter. Luckily, Clint isn’t around to make any cracks right now, but still. She shakes herself and looks to her handler expectantly.

Phil blinks at her, but then the car pulls out of the garage and the ache in his chest spikes. He gives up and just flops over across her lap so the upper half of his body is across her legs. He curls up around her as best he can with the seat belt and shivering. “Just... stay for a moment, please?” She’s soothing to his nerves, she really is.

Bruce looks back at him with a concerned expression, and speeds up, dodging through traffic as best he can to get back to the clinic.

Natasha shifts a little to make her legs a little more comfortable under Phil’s head. She gently strokes her fingers lightly over his hair. “Is this okay?” She’ll let herself get away with casual touches between Phil or Clint and herself, but anything more intimate she’ll always ask. She doesn’t want to be unwelcome.

“Very okay.” Phil mumbles, and for a few blissful seconds can almost relax, Natasha’s presence soothing away some of the bitter ache in his chest. Nat is content to just stroke Phil’s hair and revel in the fact that he’s calming down after such a high-strung week.

A sting of fear and panic comes from absolutely nowhere, strung high with tension, races through Phil and he ends up unfastening the belt so he can curl up tighter, whining in pain as his heart speeds up. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Phil looking at her as  her gaze snaps to the rear-view mirror to alert Bruce that something is going on.

“Phil?” Bruce asks, eyes on traffic.

“Heart’s speeding up…” He had to fight to even say it.

“Breathe slow.”

“Trying.” He grits his teeth.

“We’re about ten minutes out. Keep me apprised of the situation.”

She lets Phil move as he needs to before returning to petting him carefully. “I have your back, Coulson. You’re not alone, we’re here. You can breathe easy, you have back-up.”

Phil makes himself not whine, because he’s always been the strong one, just laying still and making himself breathe slow and even, eyes pressing closed against the aching discomfort. Still, when they get to the clinic he’s obviously off, brow wrinkled against the pain and skin pale. He ends up accepting support from Bruce and Natasha because he’s unsteady on his feet. The doctors move the minute they see him, tugging him into a private room and getting vitals, the hailstorm of questions beginning that Phil has to honestly struggle to answer, trying to explain what happened, how he’s feeling, how he’s felt the last week.

Natasha worries as Phil is out of her sight and does Clint, Phil, Bruce and probably Tony a favor and calls the billionaire up. “Stark, I will never do this again, but I give you permission to knock Clint out if you have a safe way of doing so. They’re talking about keeping Phil here for evaluations until late or overnight, and Clint needs to actually sleep.” She doesn’t even twitch when Tony hangs up on her.

* * *

Phil ended up stuck at the Clinic for two days. He’s not happy about it, but his condition stabilizes some and the doctors are able to give him some answers. His physical wounds are healing fine, but his body is still thrown into imbalance, and all signs pointed toward an interrupted bond, in fact a bond that was cut off fairly late in.

“Frankly, if he’d bit you it would have been done.” The doctor finally says. “I’ve seen this before but never this… dramatically played out. What is between you both has the potential to be very, very strong.”

“I don’t know how to feel about that.” Phil shifts on the examination table and puts his head in his hands. “So where do I go from here?”

“You’re stable enough to be released. We can’t give you bond breakers, they clash with the other medications you’re on. Basically, either bond with him or avoid him.”

“And if neither is an option?”

“You both suffer.”

“...Your candid phrasing is... appreciated, doc.” 


	7. In Which New York is in Peril and the Whole Team is Finally Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the end of this chapter is a small explanation of what has been done and the thoughts behind the issue in the comments from the previous chapter. I'm placing it there so to not interfere with your reading pleasure.

Avoiding Phil while licking his wounds (“Fuckin’ hell, Tony, ya didn’t have ta tranq me!” “Bring that up with JARVIS, Barton, he was the one who did it.” “Likely story.” JARVIS hadn’t commented once during the entire exchange and Clint hasn’t talked to him out of principle) is surprisingly easy. It takes him a couple days to realize that the only reason why he doesn’t run into him is because he isn’t there. It makes the lonely ache in his bones even more prominent and he hates it.

He wants to seek him out but JARVIS’s words echo in his head and he avoids him as much as he misses his best friend and… everything else. It hurts to be so completely in love with someone and have to avoid their very existence. He spends a lot of time getting his ass handed to him by Natasha (but no more than usual).

By the end of the third (or was it fourth?) day, he’s getting a little stir crazy. He’s actually glad that the Avengers are called out on duty. It’s nice to be out with the team in an ass-kicking capacity, but he does miss the smaller team of Natasha, himself, and a few others, all with Coulson’s calm voice in their ears giving instructions.

He puts it back in his mind and works on verbalizing all movements of the enemies from a high place and embedding arrows into eye sockets and throats when needed. He uses his ammo sparingly. It’s very difficult to recycle shafts when they are all very far away (sometimes Tony dumps some behind him, for which he is grateful. He always has plenty of heads in the quiver in case he needs all arrows to be of one type). He’s the best tactician on the team besides Rogers and he can see a lot more than Captain America can.

He scans the ground below and wishes he had a different vantage point to work with now that everyone has started to move away from the initial strike point, but he has to wait for either Tony or Thor to come get him. “Hey Iron Man, I’m starting to attract attention like the sickly zebra. I need a lift before I’m lunch.”

* * *

Phil is oddly glad when the team gets called out, because yes, he still hurts, he’s still nursing the ache in his chest and his bones, but he’s physically solid and he misses the action, the voices in his ears and the battle around him. Phil is a field Agent, after all. And he’s trapped on light duty, Medical watch. But, trust JARVIS to come through.

JARVIS leads him through the tower to what appears to be a command station, a half circle of screens powering up around him and a headset waiting, and Phil wants to hug Tony and not let go for a while. He gleefully puts the headset on and watches camera feeds come up all around him, including Tony’s POV from the suit. Voices are flood over him, the whole team in his ears.

“Overwatch Online.” And oh, how good that feels to say, a smile crossing his face as he says it and he knows it’s audible.

“Barton needs a lift.” The screens are touch sensitive and he stays standing, pulling the positionable screens around him, hands flying, shuffling his viewpoints, zooming and pulling out. JARVIS is giving him satellites and local cams and it’s working pretty goddamn well. “Thor, Tony’s got enemy on him. Kindly light them up. Tony, give Barton his lift, thank you. Romanov, two coming up behind you fast.”

* * *

Clint’s Pavlovian reaction to hearing Phil say “Overwatch Online” is going watery in the knees from relief. Finally, he has someone to watch over his back and see what he can’t. Someone he trusts enough to give the right intel. He feels completely assured that it is damn-near flawless. “I do indeed, sir. I think one jus’ licked it’s… teeth. Or bits of shattered glass shoved into ‘s face. Can’t tell, an’ I don’t wanna be able to.”

Natasha grunts over the comm. “Teeth. Ha. More like dentures of all the sharp things they can shove in to stick.” Natasha will bet Tony’s alcohol stash that Clint wrinkles his nose at the same time she does. At least he can’t smell these things like she can. She spins at Coulson’s instruction and takes out one with a bullet up its nose, an arrow fells the other. She tries not to giggle a little hysterically at the green brain matter speckling the back of Captain America’s uniform. When had this become her life?

“They’re fuckin’ good climbers,” Clint comments conversationally, on the slightest bit of strain in his voice hinting at any kind of panic. He scrabbles over to a gargoyle and straddles the back of its neck. “If I don’t have a lift in a minute, I’m gonna jump.” He’d rather take his chances with hitting the ground than be torn to pieces by the three creatures launching themselves up the side of the building in powerful leaps.

“Stark...” Phil starts, switching camera angles and watching the enemy close in on Clint. He doesn’t panic but urgency sinks in. “Barton needs a pick up in the next ten seconds.”

“Relax, Agent, I’m on it.” Tony frees from the clusterfuck he’d managed to get himself into, Thor’s lightning cutting across and lighting up the enemy trailing him, and of course partly winging Tony but he barely notices, dumping the extra energy into speed and arriving just in time to snatch Clint from the enemy.

“Thank you, but let’s be a bit more timely in the future. Close calls are exciting but not conductive to operation safety.” Phil keeps his voice calm, switching his focus. Bruce currently isn’t in play, which was kind of S.O.P. for fights in cities unless it was absolutely necessary. Bruce is good at what he does, but what he does came preloaded with collateral damage. “Captain, they’re gathering up around the corner from you.”

“My hero,” Clint simpers, holding on tight to Tony through the suit. It’s a bit awkward, but so is flying that fast with no safety gear to save you if you let go. “Seriously, thanks man.” Practicing his pancake imitation wasn’t something he’d really wanted to do right then. “Wanna set me down on the top of tha’ buildin’ ahead of us?” He’s not sure which building it is from up here, but he’s sure he would if he had been on the ground.

Natasha relaxes when Clint’s picked up. The aftermath of the alternative is something she’d really rather not ever have to go through. They already have an unstable Omega on their hands. Add an emotionally compromised Coulson on top of his hormones? If she’d be able to deal with her own reaction to the loss of her best friend, she’s not sure she could handle their handler.

“You got it Hawkass.” Tony sets him down easily, hovering for a moment to track where the enemy is going. “They’re pulling away from us.”

“Yeah, I see it.” Phil notes, tracing the movements himself. “It’s not a bad idea, strategically, you have been doing some damage…” He pauses. “JARVIS, get ready to defend the tower.”

“I have already anticipated the threat, sir.” The lighting in the room changes, and a hidden drawer in the desk popped open, a case slotting up to present him with two Glocks and loaded extra magazines.

“I think very highly of you right now.” Phil turns his attention back to the mic. “Avengers it’s possible they’re coming to hit the Tower, be advised.”

“Sir?” Clint asks, his voice slightly higher than usual. He grabs for Tony and  his fingers curl tightly around the armored wrist. He turns off his comm and looks desperately up at Iron Man’s face plate. “I need to be there. Tony. Please.” He’s skipped asking and is begging him, something he’s never let himself do before. He can’t have Phil be alone. He doesn’t doubt the man’s ability to protect himself but if he doesn’t do at least something to help? He’s a disgrace to himself. What kind of Alpha is he if he can’t protect the Omega that matters the most to him? His fingers tighten on the wrist, not that he could feel it. His eyes are locked on the tower from his vantage point. He has to get to Phil, come hell or high water.

Tony put his faceplate up for a moment, looking at Clint. “I think the Tower’s a much better vantage point don’t you?” That said, he slams the faceplate back down and grabs Clint again, kicking off without any further warning and setting Clint on his own landing pad.

Clint smiles at Tony gratefully just before he’s yanked off the building and brought over to the Iron Man landing pad. He can see Phil through the glass and gives him a thumbs up. One of the robots who usually help Tony out of the armor unfolds itself from the platform, an extra quiver in its claw. Clint had begun to run low, having this was a relief. “Thanks Tony. I’ll cover your back.” As soon as Tony takes off he asks JARVIS to get him let another quiver. He doesn’t want to be short.

Clint nocks an arrow and tosses a smile over his shoulder at Phil. The glass between them only dampens the desire to bond. It’s still there, along with his strong desire to watch over Phil to keep him safe. He won’t let anything happen to his handler.

“Stark. The Captain and Natasha could use your assistance.” Phil announces, having arranged his screens so he could try to keep track of the advancing threat and watch the Avengers. He does notice Clint being set on the deck of the Tower. “JARVIS, can you get Clint some more arrows?”

“I can, sir.”

“Good, do it.” Phil paused. “Shit, we still have a building full of civilians don’t we?”

“I’ve already told staff to evacuate, sir. We have an underground exit that is taking them out.”

“Good man, good man!” Phil put his attention back on the Avengers. “You’re going to spoil me terribly, JARVIS.”

“Welcome to Stark Tower, sir.”

It doesn’t take long for there to be monsters crawling up the side of Avengers Tower. Clint makes the best shots he can, trying to wait to be able to manage a double head shot to kill as many as he can as fast as he can. He needs to protect Phil, even at the cost of his own life.

“Do we have any intel on these creatures? Particularly on why they would be targeting the tower?” Phil wanted to know, switching cameras rapidfire. “JARVIS, about those defenses.”

“Active and waiting, sir.”

“Sounds like this is my cue.” Bruce walks in, shedding his shirt. “How’s the workstation, Phil?”

“Absolutely marvelous. Clint could use some backup.”

Bruce nods and strolls out onto the balcony, stretching and rolling a shoulder. The transformation rolls through him, the Hulk more or less carefully maneuvering in the space available and greeting the first enemy over the roofline with an open palmed swat that sends the enemy flying into the distance.

“Hey, Big Green,” Clint grins jovially at the Hulk and embeds an arrow into a creature’s eye socket without sparing a glance. “Nice ta see ya joinin’ the party.” It’s only half faked. He is grateful of the extra support but Phil is his and his alone to protect. He kills a few more before he scans the ground. “Hey, buddy, why doncha high-five as many of these fuckers into the ground on your way down to give ‘Tasha some support? I can handle up here.”

“The Hulk has entered the fight. Stark, do a quick look around and make sure there’s not stragglers. Everyone else? Might as well work this way.” Phil pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s starting to tire from the draw between Clint and himself.

Clint can see a large wave swarm up from the sewers and headed… well, he’s not sure but it’s away from the Avenger’s Tower. Wherever they’re going, Clint is going to stay behind just in case it’s a ruse or something. Honestly, he really just wants to stick close to Phil. This is the closest he’s been to his friend in a week? Two? It’s been too long and as much as he wants to run his hands over the man and take in everything about him, guarding him like this is just as good.

“The enemy is splitting up.” Phil frowns, watching his screens. “Stark, can you give me better eyes?”

“Already on it, Agent.” Tony said, changing directions and watching the creatures. “Looks like hitting the tower’s an attempt at a diversion.”

“Everyone on Tony’s location, I haven’t figured out what they’re up to yet but I know I won’t like it.” Phil says. Pausing, he ticks his head to the side slightly before walking over to the door to open it. “BANNER!”

The Hulk pauses, halfway up the tower with a creature’s head in one massive fist. It isn’t like the Hulk carried a radio, after all. He listens to Phil direct him to Tony and ask to take out as many as he can between here and there.

Clint watches Hulk run with the others on him, trying not to laugh loud enough for the comm. to pick it up. He balances on one leg as he leans over the edge to watch them move around and out of his view, enjoying himself enough that he nearly startles when he sees movement from the corner of his eye. He whirls around, an arrow nocked in the time it takes for him to spin 180 degrees on his heel. Leather-covered knuckles dig into his cheek as he sights and he’s too late. As soon as his body is in position, a bullet has taken care of what he should be doing.

Phil had no idea if that much would get through to the Hulk, but the giant green figure grinned and leapt off the side of the building. This is when Phil sees one of the enemy pop up on the far side of the balcony from Clint and moves automatically, pulling one of the Glocks from where he’d tucked it in the small of his back and popping a shot off, nailing it right between the eyes before stepping back inside. “JARVIS? Keep Clint stocked up with arrows, huh? Captain, Barton is hanging back until the threat at the tower is fully dealt with.”

“Understood. The Hulk’s joined us.” That is to say, the Hulk had run up to them, scooped up Steve and Natasha to his shoulders and cheerfully ran down the street in Tony’s direction.  Thor had come down to perch on the Hulk’s back as they moved.

Clint doesn’t relax because another peaks over another edge as soon as that one is down. He looks at Phil out of the corner of his eye and can’t help but feel a little thrill in his gut. Sure, most Alphas might be a little huffy, their pride a little wounded when an Omega saves them. Clint is not one of them. He feels even more pride for his Ome—his friend. That Phil is competent is just another thing that Clint can’t help but adore about him.

His heart feels full and in the most pleasant way he’s ever felt before. He sing-songs under his breath, so faint that he himself can barely hear it, “I’m in love with the BAMF one.” He nods to Phil, clamping down on every desire to close the distance between them and kiss the older man stupid. Right now he needs to prove himself even more so Phil would see the merit in mating with him.

“Thanks,” he calls, and he means it. Now the tricky part is to convince Phil to get back inside where it was safe without being totally obvious. “Can ya check the screens an’ gimme an update on the others?” He can’t see them from here and half the fight is behind a building.

Phil just grins at him, returning to his workstation. He keeps the grin when JARVIS has a list of music on offer, and he takes a split second to pick something he finds appropriate, dialing the volume back so he can still focus. His fingers travel the screens. He’s used to being in the field but honestly, he likes this setup. He has every intent of changing his screensavers to the code from the Matrix and letting Tony laugh at him. “Avengers, heads up, we have a situation change.” He announces.

The current enemy is mostly headed off by the Hulk, the others keeping the edges of the group and working inward, efficiently boxing the enemy in and reducing their numbers. It’s satisfying to listen and watch the Captain command the others.

“Yeah, I would call that a situation change.” Tony turns in mid-air and hovers, watching a new enemy join the field. “I am really sick of giant flying things coming out of rifts in the sky.”

“HA HAH!” Thor wheels and shouts something in Norse, sounding triumphant.

“English, Point Break.” Tony said.

Phil watches the new arrival’s flight path. “Thor, Stark, I think this one’s yours. I’d rather keep the Hulk on the ground, mopping up. Barton, do you have a shot on it?” JARVIS brings up diagrams on the new baddie that is currently being generated on the fly, complete with tags about theoretical weak points.

“It’s fuckin’ armored everywhere, sir.” Clint narrows his eyes, trailing its body for a weak point. “I’m not sure I can kill it from this angle, but I can bring it down.” Steve gives him the clear to do so and Clint takes the shot after an adjustment of his aim and a slow exhale.

Firstly, it doesn’t bring the creature down that much. Secondly, it brings it down toward Clint. “Fuck me,” Clint groans as he shoots again, and again, trying to veer it off the course it’s currently taking. It’s not working so much. This might not end well. He pulls his grappling arrow from his quiver and starts pulling the wire out. He’ll just have to steer the damned thing himself.

He’s not sure, but he might have heard someone telling him to not do it. Or get out of the way. Or ask him what the hell he was doing. He doesn’t listen, but instead spots how the monsters are following the winged one and flapping tiny appendages on their backs. Well fuck, these might be babies. “And if tha’s the momma…” he murmurs to himself.

He’s so boned.

He loops the grappling cable hurriedly into something he could hold the ‘momma’s’ mouth shut (he’s rather fond of his head and she’s got a lot of _real_ teeth) and runs at her and toward the end of the balcony. The balcony ends fast at Tony’s landing pad and throws himself off the tower and toward the beast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over the issue of Clint's accent: 
> 
> Not every Hawkeye is the same throughout all the comics he's been in. Every character changes some over the years. Each writer and artist have their own interpretation. I am a writer and this is my interpretation of a man when left home (and the orphanage) before he was even ten. He started in Iowa and traveled all over the place and tried to fit in the best he could so people would accept and like him.
> 
> The accent is a mish-mash of all the places he's traveled and the slang/jargon he's learned from the docks to the mountains with the poor and the rich. Everyone he's met has influenced him in some small way.
> 
> When he's being serious, some of the slurred language goes away, when he's badly hurt or exhausted, it's more pronounced. Human speech varies and I know it is uncommon to put that into writing. 
> 
> But you know what? We use slang so much, all of the time, that it isn't odd to us. Like gonna or wanna. We use could've/should've/would've so much in speaking that some people make the mistake of writing it "could of" and "should of" and "would of" even though that is blatantly incorrect if the sentence was read slowly and looked at for its individual parts.
> 
> I am sorry that the accent bothers some of you, I am sorry that it makes it hard to read. It is your decision on whether or not to continue reading this work of fiction with my interpretation on how Clint Barton acts and talks and thinks.
> 
> I have other works where he doesn't talk like that, feel free to read those.
> 
> I thank you for the criticism to help me improve. It has been noted. I have toned it back through edits as far as I wish to while keeping the tone I think he has. I do value your input. This matter is resolved.


	8. In Which Momma Sky Tooth is Brought Down Along With Her Babies

“Barton! _AGENT BARTON_!” Phil barks into the radio, getting a painful tug in his chest as he watches Clint plunge off the side of the building, somehow managing to land on the monster. He clutched at his chest for a split second, and blew out a breath and squared his shoulders. “Avengers, Agent Barton is on top of the flying enemy. Please be advised and direct your shots carefully.”

“The closest translation I can work out for the names of these beasts are ‘Sky Teeth’, Son of Coul.” Thor said.

“Sky Teeth.” Phil repeated back.

“Some things do not translate well.” The Asgardian admits, already twirling his hammer.

“What in the hell are you _doing_ , Barton?” Steve wants to know, sounding less than pleased.

Tony and Thor landed on the back of the Sky Tooth at the same time, Tony talking rapidfire with JARVIS before kicking away to fly alongside it. “Hey, Hawkass, we need to put this thing down.”

The ‘lasso’ had caught around the beasts nose and Clint’s sudden weight yanked her down a few floors before she reared up and Clint was able to climb up one limb and settle himself before her first set set of wings. The other two sets behind him pump hard enough that the air pushes at his back.

The grappling wire bites into the skin of his ungloved hand, but he doesn’t dare loosen his grip as the beast tries to buck him off while remaining airborne. They shoot up passed the floor Phil’s on and Clint manages a grin and a little wave despite his terror. Seriously, Clint thinks that if it were possible, he would be choking on his heart. The things he did for love, fucking hell. On the upside, the momma is less about smashing into buildings (including the one keeping Phil safe) and more about trying to buck Clint off.

Phil watches Clint wave at him on the way by and discovered it was possible to simultaneously want to murder someone and save their life.

“Well, Cap,” Clint begins after Momma Sky Tooth stops bucking and decides a long quick drop is in order, “I was thinkin’ about how I always wanted to try ridin’ a buckin’ bronco and thought, ‘why the fuck not?’ So here I am.” He hears someone snort and he thinks it’s Natasha or Stark. “An’ really, I saved the Tower while I was at it.”

Momma Sky Tooth jerks up to fly parallel with the street and he nearly gets his nose broken by the hard scales on her back. He can feel a trickle of blood regardless. “I’ve got her mouth tied up an’ she’s not hurtin’ anyone but me. I can handle Momma Sky Tooth. Lead her wherever an’ the babies’ll follow.”

MST is about ten times the size of the babies they’d been slaughtering (and oh is Momma pissed. He can feel her growl as they pass the bodies as she tries to take sharp corners and fling him away)—which means she’s about three stories tall without her tail.

“The cops have blocked off a few of the streets and it would be in everyone’s best interests to get this dealt with quickly.” Phil finally says, watching their flight path. “You’re about to come into one of the clear areas. It’d be nice if we could do this without structural damage.”

“We all have dreams and hopes, Agent.” Tony teases.

“Stark.” Phil warns.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll do our best, okay? Hey, Point Break!”

Thor had been bucked off, but lands again, grabbing onto a wing base to steady himself. “Man of Iron!”

“Don’t suppose lightning would knock this thing out of the sky?”

“It will interrupt its flight, but it’s not nearly enough to kill such a beast.” Thor replies solemnly.

“Well, that’s what we need right now but if you electrocute Clint then Phil will kill us all so let me know when you’re ready to rock and I’ll grab Clint.”

“Does no one fuckin’ listen?!” Clint snaps over the comm. “I said I’ll lead her an’ the babies. We can corral these fuckwads while they play follow the leader.” He yanks hard on the grappling line to guide Momma Sky Tooth around an abandoned bus, unhappy that his words had been ignored.

“Are you sure they’re all going to follow you?” Natasha asks, even though she can see that the majority are. Even those that don’t follow are at least distracted and she nods as her grip shifts on her guns. The bullets hadn’t done much unless she managed to shoot against the lay of the scales.

“Yes, I’m fuckin’ sure. ‘s not like I’m in _that_ much danger.” He’s sure he can feel at least one pair of eyes roll in his direction but he doesn’t comment. He’s too busy trying to steer—which he’s doing pretty damn well for the fact that he’s roped himself a very angry mother of a species that calls themselves ‘Sky Teeth’.

“Tell you what, Agent Barton, I’ll start listening better when you start making sure your plans have a lower chance of killing you horribly.” Phil’s replies hotly from the doorway to the balcony.

“Kill?” Clint snorts, “Naw, maim a li’l maybe.” Probably. But he’s good at getting hurt, it’s like a special skill. He’s the only unaltered human (he knows Natasha has something she won’t talk about and he won’t ask) and so he’s a bit squishier than the rest. It doesn’t matter much to him. Being the squishiest also makes him the most expendable.

Phil fires off half a magazine, putting down some of the baby Sky Teeth. JARVIS gets one with Tony’s Iron Man gear down of all damn things, the mechanical arms erupting from the floor and taking the green-blooded monster apart efficiently, remaining out and waiting, like some perversion of Giger.

The tower defended, Phil steps back inside to his work station, focusing on his satellite feeds. “It looks like the majority are gathering on your location and you are rapidly running out of open space. Put the monster down now, please.”

“Be ready, Man of Iron!” Thor bellows, never mind that the radios could hear whispers, whipping up the storm and bringing lightning down.

Clint can see the dead end rushing to meet him and he has every intention to veer her him, around, and down into the ground. It would be a spectacular crash. However, everyone else is going to ruin his plans. He listens to everyone else, even through he’s going fast enough to almost tear the earpiece out of it’s spot. A flash of red out of the corner of his eye reveals Iron Man’s approach.

“Wait, Tony, wait!” Clint’s trying to untangle his hands while maintaining the angled tug of the Momma Sky Tooth’s muzzle to remain in control. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait—” He’s just a little stuck and if Tony doesn’t slow down he might lose a finger or four. “Waitwaitwaitwaitwait!”

“Time to go.” Tony dodges in, grabbing Clint to get him free and clear as Thor lit the adult Sky Tooth up.

Clint gets grabbed almost too soon and only loses the fleshy tip of his right pinkie finger and gets friction burns enough to melt his skin a little to make the grooves from where the wire pressed into his fingers completely smooth. “Bad. Bad Tony. No biscuit.” He knocks on the suit’s forehead with a scowl before looking his hands over. They smart.

Tony laughs maniacally. He can’t help it. “Sorry, Clint, but you knew it was coming and would you have preferred the lightning?” He found a likely vantage point and dropped Clint off, then doubled back to rejoin the fray.

Which just succeeded in knocking it out of the sky.

Which allowed the Hulk to joyously pounce on it.

With most of the babies gathered, it’s chaos. Thor and the Hulk are working on the mother, and Tony joins, engaging a laser on his wrist to cut in at the base of the one of the mother’s wings to attempt to cripple her.

“I will bleed on everythin’ ya love, Stark.” Clint grouses as he’s set down. He’s going to have to shoot while holding his pinkie finger out and if he gets any lip from anyone, he’s going to kick their ass later in the sparring ring. Fuck, he hates this. He’s doing fine but now his hands hurt and he can’t deal with hand injuries well because they are his livelihood.

“Clint, Romanov and the Captain could use some cover. Stark, that goes for you as well.” Phil does not even look up as the last forlorn enemy on the tower climbed the rest of the way up and promptly met JARVIS’ vicious mechanical grip.

Clint ignores any retort from Iron Man and covers Natasha and Steve as best as he can without wasting his limited supply of ammunition. He’s not going to call for a drop because no one is free and he’s not on the Tower any more. It’s the one thing he dislikes about using his bow but he’ll never tell anyone that. He doesn’t usually have to fight off an army of monster-babies.

He looks over at the MST again and his eyes widen a little. “Okay, I think I have another fuckin’ idea an' this one isn’t dumb, sir, so don’t even start.” He pulls an arrow from his quiver and knocks it, grateful that he’s still within firing range of the Momma. “I think I see a weak spot to shoot, I’ll get a couple arrows in an’ Thor can light ‘er up.”

“If you think you can see a weak point, take the shots when you can.” The Hulk hasn’t exactly met his match, having taken on much larger foes with much greater efficiently but the emphasis on not destroying the city this time has actually made the Hulk dial it back. Currently the Hulk is standing on the Sky Tooth’s back, feet planted and hands wrapped around the foremost pair of wings, pulling the creature back into an arch and holding it. Which, Phil muses, at least keeps the creature still, maybe Clint can get a few shots off this way.

“Yessir.” Clint pulls the string back taut and waits for the opportune moment. He almost has the shot perfect when Stark moves into his line of shot. He’s about to complain when the man moves to the ground to help Steve. He pulls the string back a little further before loosing the arrow. The string hums at his ear and he closes his eyes for the briefest moment to enjoy the thrum in his body.

Tony hits the ground, reflecting a shot off Steve’s shield then grabbing one of the babies and putting his back into it, spinning and throwing it in mid-air, whereupon Thor leaps and smashes it back down. Steve and Natasha, with Tony’s assistance here and there, have effectively hemmed the babies in and there’s only a few left in their immediate vicinity.

Clint’s right about the weak spot. It’s just below a horn on the side of its jaw. It looked almost like the opening to an lizard’s ear. The hole is just big enough for him to bury three arrows in it. The beast thrashes and he does what he can to keep the second two shots close to the first. “Thor, I need her to turn her head the other way so I can get the other side.”

It takes almost a minute, but Thor gets her attention and is out of the way so Clint can make his remaining shots. He’s just finished that when a few straggler ‘babies’ come racing up the building toward him. “Go, Thor, go!”

Thor needs no encouragement, and takes his hammer to the Sky Tooth’s jaw roundhouse style, lightning biting again and jumping along the shafts of Clint's arrows. The electricity can finally penetrate her think armor and she's roasted from the inside out even as the Hulk lands a blow with both fists on the end of her nose, driving her muzzle into the pavement. The rest of the creature collapses onto the ground, oozing green blood from her nostrils.

Steve doesn’t miss a beat, twisting and throwing his shield up the building Clint is on, clipping one of the monsters climbing toward him and getting its attention long enough Natasha can land two accurate headshots on it. Tony deals with another by simply grabbing it off the building and tossing it to the streets below.

“Looks like little damage to the city. Some definite cleanup but in the overall scheme of things, that’s minor.” Phil sighs, going through all his cameras again and flopping into a chair, putting the safety back on on his Glock and watching the mop up with a satisfied quirk of his lips. “Well done, Avengers.”

“Good to hear your voice again, sir.” Natasha replied, smiling.

“No shit, I could get used to that.” Tony cheerfully curbstomps the monster he threw down, because apparently hitting the ground hadn’t been fatal enough.

“Sir, please stop tryin’ to get the fat lady to sing early.” He can still count about fifty of the babies in sight, and more could be hiding elsewhere. He doesn’t want to call all of this done and have a SHIELD clean-up crew get a nasty surprise. He’s limited on ammunition enough that he holds back and points out the creatures to the others, only taking shots when they’re very necessary.

For the most part, he’s completely satisfied with letting everyone else do the hard work. His hands are aching and it’s making it uncomfortable to shoot. He calls out enemy movements to the others and confirms them with Phil from the other’s view. It’s surprisingly easy to subdue the rest now that they’ve mostly gathered the babies in one area thanks to Clint. Sure, he’ll admit it wasn’t the best plan, but it worked and no one got hurt. There wasn’t even any major damage to any buildings either.

“I have confidence in your abilities to finish this successfully.” Phil replied, opening a bottle of water and watching the mop up on the screen. “I still don’t approve of your decision making tree, Clint, but it ended well.”

“You have a talent for understatement, Coulson.” Steve nearly growls, sounding less than happy and taking it out on one of the remaining enemy, sending it flying in the process. “That was goddamn risky, Barton.”

“Speaking as the king of bad decisions, lay off Cap.” Tony resists snapping at him but there is a clear edge to his tone as he touches down on the street. The Hulk had gone down to one knee, and in a shimmery ripple Bruce comes back. Tony scoops him up, carrying him to where some black SUVs lurked at the end of the street. “Looks like your friends are arriving, Agent.”

“Say hi to Jasper for me if he’s there.”

“Next time,” Clint is trying so hard not to snarl at Steve (because really. It’s bad enough that Clint knows he’s a better match for Phil, does he have to be so fucking smart all the time too?), “I’ll just let Momma Sky Tooth plow righ’ through Stark Tower an’ kill everyone in it in the fuckin’ process.” He doesn’t mean it, he doesn’t because Phil was there and everything within screams that he must protect Phil above all costs.

He ignores the sharp look Natasha gives him (and he knows that she knows he can see it). It's clear that she’s practically screaming at him in her head to lay off and not make things worse. Well, sorry. He’s hurting and sweaty and dirty and no one fucking appreciates that he risked his life and caused no damage to anything or anyone in exchange. He's so fed up with a few members of the group, he damn-near sings the praises of Sitwell when the man shows up. Scrambling down from the building he was on by using his acrobat skills to flip and swing from one landing of a fire-escape to the level below to reach the ground quickly, he hurries over with a half-forced grin. He claps the man on the shoulder and grins at him brightly now that his back is turned from Steve and he's removed the comm. from his ear. Ignoring the Avengers, he can easily bury the irritation almost seamlessly and focus on SHIELD. The only giveaway that it is a little is when he abruptly stops talking when Steve nears to shepherd him back to the Tower to debrief.


	9. In Which the Alphas Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for some brutal damage within. See notes at the end for full warnings (spoilery).

Forty minutes later, the Avengers have all made it back into the tower and upstairs for debrief. Bruce wraps himself in a blanket and holds a mug of tea to aid in winding down. Tony makes absolutely disgusted noises as he tries to wipe alien blood off himself because the robot arms had dripped on him while they took his armor off.

Sagging into a chair, Clint carefully wets a towel with a bottle of water he gabbed on the way through the door. He rubs it along his face and neck to clean off the dirt and cool himself down.

Phil pushes away from the workstation when the other Avengers straggle in, taking a quick visual assessment. No severe wounds, though Clint’s hand would clearly need to be seen to. Bruce is in recovery. No city destroyed. He starts to step over, because years of ingrained habit is to pat Clint’s shoulder or slap his back or something, just contact, fond and approving, and staggers to a halt because Clint’s scent hammers him.

Clint can smell Phil coming closer from the adrenaline clinging faintly to the Omega as well as the wild imbalance that makes hm pungent and almost smell of a heat. He tries not to twitch or stand and stride over to him to bury his nose into the mans neck and inhale deeply. His body thrums with a desire to do so many things to Phil and he just has to dig his nails into his palms and hope that he doesn’t get any closer. He hates this. He hates feeling so out of control.

Suddenly Tony is there and pulling Phil back by his jacket sleeve with a gentle hand. “Don’t forget yourself.”

“...Thanks, Tony.” He sighs and moves so he’s not too close to anyone in particular. 

Luckily for them both, Tony stops Phil. They might be talking very softly but Clint can hear them and he’s grateful. Now is not the time to work out these issues. Hell, he’s not sure that there will ever be a time to sort through all of this shit.

“Honestly? Not a bad performance. Frankly, damn good job out there considering the Avengers have a little bit of a reputation for collateral damage.” Phil smiles at them all. His team, his  _pack_.

Clint shoves all the longing and messed up wants in his head aside and preens under the slight praise. “We did damn good at not breakin’ the city.”

“That reputation is well earned, to be fair.” Bruce adds, sipping his tea.

“It is, but it’s also a reputation we need to try to mitigate.” Phil shrugged. “Good job by all. Clint, excellent performance but I hereby ban you from future rodeo rides on aliens.”

“It was far too risky.” Steve glowers a bit, cowl off but otherwise still in uniform.

“I agree, but we got lucky this time.” Phil holds up a hand. “Lady Luck is a fickle woman though and I’d rather not depend on her whims.”

Clint’s cheerier mood is slaughtered by Rogers and he tries not to scowl. His calm face is angry enough. “Last I checked, Rogers, the risk wasn’t to anyone’s hide but your own. Get off your fuckin’ high-eagle an’ lemme enjoy my moment. Sorry we can’t all be war heroes like _you_.”

“Excuse me?” Steve demands, glaring as he jerks to his feet. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, Barton, but it’d take a sizable bit more than that to actually damage me. You’re the one who put yourself in the line of fire in combat, and I don’t like that, _or_ your current attitude!”

“Captain Rogers…” Phil starts, ever patient because he’s well aware of Clint’s attitude and it doesn’t bother him.

“Phil, this is a pack dynamics issue so if you would please...” Steve holds his hand palm out to Phil to get him to back off.

Phil looked up and bared his teeth slightly. “The only pack dynamics issue we are having, Rogers, is you not accepting that I am the authority in the room. Sit the fuck down. Please.” Phil knows Steve’s not listening to a word he says, because Steve’s eyes eyes have damn near lit up, an Alpha rage barely held in check as he glares at Clint. But he’s trying to use words anyway.

“Yeah, it was tha’ or lettin’ the fucker crash into Stark Tower! She was gunnin’ for Coulson, ya think I’d jus’ let tha’ happen?” He rises to his feet and crowds Steve, just itching to hit him but he won’t make the first move. Let Steve be the rash and weak one. Let him lose control first. Clint is already holding back the constant burning desire to bond with Phil. He can’t let loose that control for another. “Fuck you, Rogers. ‘s my choice to throw my life out there in sacrifice for one of my pack mates.” Clint’s upper lip curls into a snarl and he clenches his fists. “Not that ya’d know tha’, as ya left ‘em all behind to fend on their own.”

Steve snarls when his space is crowded, standing his ground and scowling. “God dammit, you disrespectful prick, it’s not just _your_ choice. You are part of a team! Phil and Natasha nearly lost you once, do you really think they can deal with you severely hurt?! How the fuck are you protecting Phil if you’re killing yourself?!”

“I thought arguing with Steve was my thing.” Tony blinks.

“Not helping, Stark.” Phil says, Natasha echoing him.

Natasha doesn’t like where this is going at all but she’ll offer to chop off her right hand before she’d step between two Alphas with their dander up. She steps over next to Phil for emotional support and to protect him if it really comes to require it (whether from the Alphas, or from Phil attempting to stop them, she’s not quite sure).

“Do ya really have so little fuckin’ faith in me? I’m not some fuckin’ weakling, Rogers. I may be the only human on this team, but I’m not useless.” He sneers, “I have natural skills an’ long honed others. I am fuckin’ valuable. Nothin’ ‘bout me came from—how did Tony put it? Oh yeah—a bottle. Fuck off, I knew the risks, an’ I knew I could handle it.”

Steve wants to remark that it has nothing to do with faith, because faith won’t protect most people from physical harm, then Clint snarks about Steve’s origin and that’s the last straw. Still jangling on adrenaline from the fight, his pupils narrow to pinpricks as he starts to move, lashing out with a snarl.

The room scatters out, Tony somehow backwards somersaulting out of his chair and pulling Bruce out of the line of fire, and Thor dodging around, pulling Phil and Natasha back.

“STOP!” Phil barks, straining against Thor’s hand gripping the back of his jacket.

Clint’s too close to Steve to properly see the fist coming. He’s too blinded from his rage. A super-serum’d fist lands squarely to his jaw. The force almost takes him to the ground and he staggers to regain himself, folding almost in half. The radiating pain tells him that there is already significant damage. His teeth feel loose and just opening his mouth a little makes the pain sharp and hot. At least a fracture then. He can taste blood in his mouth and he spits it in Steve’s face as he stands back up to temporarily blind him. He ducks a second blow and kicks a foot out from under Steve, slamming his heel into the side of the man’s knee to attempt in dislocating it.

The blood spat in his face doesn’t even make Steve pause, but the knee blow does, and he staggers with a hiss of pain, taking weight off that leg as his knee threatens to give. He keeps his fists up to block blows and throws another punch, aiming for body blows.

Phil struggles against Thor, eyes wide, the only thought in his head that he needs to stop this fight. It’s not a good matchup, Steve’s brutally strong and Clint can fight dirty, and fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Steve’s going to hurt Clint; his childhood hero is going to hurt his archer. “STOP!” He shouts. “You are team mates! STOP THIS!”

This time Clint is ready for a blow and he tenses his stomach to accept the hit even as he moves out of its way. He doesn’t want to risk it. He’s a lot faster than Steve, he’ll be able to wait him out. It goes without being said what they're fighting over. Both eyes flick over to Phil in unison before returning to each other. They’re the only ones compatible that they know of.

This isn’t a fight over team dynamics, not really. This is a fight over who has the right to pursue Phil and be his mate. Clint badly wanted that. Maybe, if he could best Steve and show Phil that he’s good enough to mate with… maybe Phil will want to bond and Clint wouldn’t have to hold back all the time.

If he loses, however, the partial bond between them will be broken in one of the worst ways. It’ll be painful for both parties, but Clint reckons it’ll be even worse for him. Alphas usually get the worst of it because the main wiring in their brains is to find an Omega, mate with them, and protect them for the rest of their days. It’s a lot easier for an Omega to walk away from something like this compared to an Alpha. But with Clint also being in love with his Ome—with Phil, and with Phil’s hormonal imbalance and general unnaturalness, and the incomplete bond... he has a feeling that it will be so much worse.

When both Clint and Steve look at him in unison, Phil feels a rush of relief, thinking he’d gotten through to them and they’d stand the fight down. But no, they immediately focus back on each other and attack again, and Phil’s heart falls as he realizes what just happened.

The fight is about him. It isn’t the battle, it isn’t team dynamics, it is _him_ , he is fucking up the balance, he is destroying their friendship, all him. Something deep inside him aches with the knowledge and with sympathy pain because when one of Steve’s blows glances off Clint’s ribs, he feels a ghost of it, a hot spreading ache over his side.

Phil doesn’t know where the noise comes from, it just bubbles up inside him as he struggles against Thor’s grip. Thor’s holding him tight and protective, keeping him away from the fight, and he feels so helpless, and his words fall on deaf ears. So he screams. It’s barely even a human noise, something feral and desperate and distressed, every bit of him that’s Omega voicing his panic to the world.

Clint digs his thumbs into the soft sides of Steve’s wrists as the Alpha actually tries to choke him. At least he’s not so far gone that he has lost his sense of finesse like Steve has. He’d only just gotten his breath back from a follow-up punch to the ribs when Steve had grabbed his neck with both hands hard enough that a vertabra in his spine popped. His ears are starting to ring as his vision blackens at the edges.

The archer snarls and snaps his teeth at Steve. It’s his fault that Phil made that noise and he’s going to make him pay for it. He drops down six inches and twists to his right. Steve’s hands don’t slip well on his neck, rubbing the skin hard, but he continues the move. He ducks his chin to allow a bit more oxygen and swings his left arm up. Slamming his left elbow and tricep down on the bend of Steve’s forearms, he forces Steve down just enough that he can slam the side of his left fist into Steve’s temple. As the soldier goes down a little more, he spins, his knee flying up and into Steve’s jaw.

Phil’s only partially aware of movement around the fight. Bruce is with Thor and him, hiding behind the wall Thor’s body makes to try to disassociate from the fight. He hardly registers when Bruce reaches out to touch his arm and try to calm him. Behind them, Tony runs out to the balcony to gear up to protect himself and the others against the two fighting Alphas. Phil doesn’t care, still fighting Thor’s grip, eyes locked on the struggle.

He feels the partial bond between he and Clint open wide and bright, feels the spill of emotion and physicality from Clint, pain and anger and determination. They’d been fighting this, avoiding this? They’ve barely connected at all and it feels like he could reach out and touch Clint’s soul. He’s known Clint so long, fought beside him for so long, that seeing all that deadly grace come out as Clint defends himself, defends the concept of _them_ , makes pride swell in his chest, proud of his agent, his archer, his Alpha.

Steve goes down to one knee, and even as the phrase _my Alpha_ slips through Phil’s head, he sees Steve’s head come up and look at Clint, and he knows it’s over, knows its over before the super soldier even starts to stand. Steve surges out of his kneeling position with a roar of defiance, going for body blows again, tight boxer jabs that Phil felt hard enough his body curled with the pain.

Steve is vicious and Clint almost swears that the man’s eyes flashed red for a second. It’s all he can do to defend and back up and defend. He leads Steve away from Phil so he can protect and watch and defend, defend, defend. He slides his eyes to Phil’s for one a second and he feels the bond try to pull them closer…

An iron grip wraps around his wrist hard enough to grind the bones together painfully. His attention snaps back to Steve as he bares his teeth in a snarl. The taller man headbutts him and he feels his nose break and gushing blood as tears spring to his eyes. He thrusts the heel of his palm up hard under Steve’s chin—making his head snap back. He slams his foot hard on the arch of one of Steve’s, making him howl in pain.

A victorious sneer graces his mouth just long enough for Steve to wrench his arm and twist it hard, the force and torque driving him down to his knees. He drops to one hand and kicks hard at the knee he injured before to drive Steve back, but the supersoldier snarls and growls and twists harder.

Clint goes down to the floor. Steve steps on the fingers of his free hand making Clint squirm and curse. His other foot goes to the back of his neck and presses hard and quick. He leans low, keeping Clint’s arm strung up. “He's mine,” he growls so low that only Clint can hear. He twists his wrist slowly and Clint bites back a whimper.

Clint looks at Phil as best as he can as defeat sinks in and his fire to fight and win dies out. He mentally apologizes with everything he is. He knew it in the first place, of course. Alpha rage or not, he’s not good enough for Coulson. Steve had just proven that. He lowers his gaze and hates himself just a little more because… not only did he lose, he had to give up. Laws and instincts and everything else will force him to personally give up on Phil, because it’s not his right to have him anymore.

As soon as he looks away, the bond rips and it hurts Clint more than anything Steve’s done to him. His body seizes up and he fights back a tremor that wants to shake through his spine. He lost. He wasn’t worthy. He wasn’t good enough to protect what he wanted more than breathing. Clint’s chest hurts so much he can’t even suck in a breath, he can’t make a sound. It’s agony. This throbbing, burning ache of loss and failure is his and his alone. The failure to a mate for an Alpha is one of the single-most painful things they can ever experience in all their life.

The utter and overwhelming loss of everything Phil that had started to become integral parts of himself leaves him more winded than any blow. He’s never felt so empty, so raw, so wrong in all his life. For a moment, he wonders, maybe they had had a bond of some kind even while the older man had been on suppressants. The time for wondering such things is long gone, however.

Steve raises his gaze to Phil’s and locks his eyes on him. He’s waiting for a sign from the prone body beneath him. He’s waiting on Clint to give in completely. A faint, pained tremble is the only clue that the smaller man had given up his claim on Coulson and now wallowed in his utter failure to ‘his’ Omega, to his ability of being an Alpha, to his pack. With a sharp jerk, he rips Clint’s arm out of socket and feels satisfied at the pop. He had won and made it clear that Clint is not good enough to contest for a round two.

Clint grunts and sinks his teeth into his lower lip from the pain but just lays there. It hardly feels like he remembers, it hardly hurts him. He doesn’t even fight back. He can taste blood in his mouth and realizes that he’s re-split his lip. Not that it matters. He deserves all the pain that Steve inflicts on him due to his failure… and he can’t even feel it.

How can he ever meet Phil’s eyes again? He coughs and gasps a little as Steve leans a little more heavily onto the foot on his neck but makes no move to fight back. Tremors race through him as his body fights and strives to pull the bond back to him, but to no avail. He can’t even find the shredded pieces to pull back to himself.

Phil cowers back into the protective circle of Thor’s arms, shaking and staring at Steve. He can’t even speak, can barely breathe around the blast of pain in his chest. He’s been torn apart, like something integral to his life has been brutally ripped away from him, leaving an achy empty gap and tatters of himself around it, unable to function.

And he knows it’s Clint. Clint’s been severed from him with all the finesse of a sledgehammer. Clint, his best friend, his operative, his... he... he doesn’t know. Hell, he’s not even sure why he survived. Apparently, he lived so he could break the Avengers from within. Destroy his best friend, and several friendships, and an entire team that only really connected because of his death in the first place. He’s only distantly aware that he’s sobbing, that fast panicky panting sobbing of agony and fear, heart racing and his scar a blaze of pain.

A red and gold blur overtook Steve and Clint, Tony shoulder slamming Steve full force, wrenching the super soldier away from the damaged archer and throwing him across the room.

Clint cries out when his arm yanked toward where Steve is thrown. He’s dragged a good foot and a half before his hand drops to the floor from being finally released. He uses his better arm to prop himself up, his ribs screaming at him but no louder than his pounding, thundering, echoing loss. The sound of his breaths are much wetter than what could be described as ‘healthy’, and a cough has blood splattering the ground before him.

He doesn’t stop trying to get up. He has to get up because something is wrong. It’s a sharp, high note of wrong that makes everything in sharp contrast as he tries to… he’s not sure what. His arms and legs shake as he pushes himself up onto all four for only a second before he drops.

“What the fuck, Tony?” Steve roared, getting back to his feet. He doesn’t even look to the man he’d been stepping on. He’s focused on Tony completely, ready to fight another Alpha.

But Tony is standing over Clint, hands raised and other suit weapons readying to deploy. “Stand down, Rogers. You’ve done more than enough.” Tony’s voice is absolutely cold. “Feel like a big man, now? Look at Phil and tell me you feel like you’ve done right.”

All Phil wants to do is run, but Thor’s grip is supporting him more than his legs are.

As soon as it’s clear that Tony is able to handle Steve, Natasha is by Clint’s side, cursing him up and down and bluer than blue in Russian. He only understands every third word, but he hasn’t heard her speak like that in a very long time. Her hands are small and cool and gentle as she helps him sit up.

He looks around and spots the source of the wrongness. Clint has never seen Phil cry. Never seen him upset or distraught or any extreme emotion to be completely honest. And now, here, he sees Phil at his most desolate and broken and Clint did that. Because he’s such a huge failure. This is all Clint’s fault. Every last shred of it. And he isn’t good enough, he isn’t worth enough, to fix it. It’s time for him to go.

He forces himself to his feet in a surge of willpower that he’s not sure where he gets it from. His eyes are glued to the floor. He’s not worthy of meeting anyone’s eyes after this mess. He chokes out, “sorry,” but his voice is faint and it cracks and he doesn’t even know if anyone heard him.

He spins on his heel and hurries out the door. He turns the closest corner and hauls himself up into the vents before he can be found and disappears into the maze work. He asks JARVIS not to reveal his location, but does let Bruce—and only Bruce—know anything about any of his vital signs. He does have a concussion after all.

He retreats to his first nest, the space with blankets near Phil’s rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -kick to a knee to dibilitate  
> -choking  
> -breaking a nose with a headbutt  
> -stomping on the arch of a foot  
> -dislocating a shoulder


	10. In Which Steve Gets What's Due and Clint is Dragged out of Hiding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry all, the chapter got so long that I had to split it in half.
> 
> The sequel had just barely begun, so you'll have to wait a while before that comes too.
> 
> The next chapter might take a while too because I'm trying to stir up commissions so I [Kisleth] can get my car fixed. If you're interested, please check out [this link](http://marksmanbarton.tumblr.com/post/49034952524/). Message me on tumblr or leave a comment and we can work something out. I am also willing to update faster on WIP fics for donations too. So if you want, you can donate to get the next chapter of this up faster!

Phil feels helpless and heartbroken, desolate and so very, very alone in the world as he watches Clint flee. For the space of a few seconds, he wonders if he’s dead, if this is hell, if his punishment is being the destruction of everything he worked for and loved.

This isn’t helping. He grabs onto that thought like a drowning man, closes his eyes and sucks in a breath. This isn’t helping. Being an Omega, being stricken like this, is not helping. He was ran through with a spear and barely cried out, lay dying and was utterly calm. He can do this. The crying stops as he draws the tattered bits together, makes himself work around the empty ache singing in his chest, rewires himself around base biology and reengages his brain. And as he calms, another emotion swells through him, and it’s rage.

“How dare you.” He doesn’t even mean to say it out loud, but he does, and he opens his eyes, voice calm and cold, staring at Steve and neatly wiping the wet streaks from his face. “Kindly let me go, Thor.” Thor did, and Phil stepped away, straightening his tie and cuffs before turning to fully face Steve and Tony.

“Oh, shit.” Tony says and flips his faceplate up. He’s not sure if he’s going to want to watch this. “Phil...”

“Have the good sense of mind to shut up for once, Stark.” Phil snarls, and Tony actually backs away a few steps.

Steve swipes at his mouth with a gloved hand, tasting blood, dirt, leather, and sweat. His body is thrumming pleasantly with victory and his chest is full of pride. He won. He won. He’d fought other Alphas for the benefit of an Omega. He’d tried to save them from an otherwise soon-to-be-unhealthy relationship but had never won before. He’d always had to have his ass saved by Bucky, the calmest and most-steadfast Beta he’d ever met. But now, now he’d not just saved an Omega from a rash fool like Clint Barton, they were compatible and if Phil is so inclined—

Phil strides over to Steve and gets right in the Alpha’s face. “I asked you a question, Rogers. How. Dare. You?”

Everything melts away and Steve knows… everything is not okay. He clamps down on his reactions to keep himself from growling at Phil, at a friend, at a more delicate gender, at a man he hoped to woo and court and many, many other things. “I did nothing wrong. He was a risk to the team, and to you. I put him in his place.”

Phil actually steps back at that reply, feeling the bottom fall out of his stomach because... Steve honestly has no idea. No idea how far gone he is, how much he’s fucked up, and the very idea that the sheer brutality Steve had just put Clint through was putting the other Alpha in his place, well, Phil’s body is moving without any real thought necessary.

Phil’s punch is expert and lands true, but it’s like punching a wall. Steve’s head still turns with the force of it, and Phil only hisses at the pain that zings up his hand and through his wrist. “And I’m about to put you in yours.” Phil’s voice is dead and flat, holding his wrist to his chest. “Steven Rogers. You are hereby suspended from duty, and stripped of rank. You will not fight with the Avengers while suspended, nor command them. I’m holding off on declaring how long this suspension will last until Agent Barton’s injuries are fully known, but from what I saw, you will be very fucking lucky if I don’t give you a dishonorable discharge.”

“What?” Steve’s gaping at him. “You, you’re just, you can’t…”

Phil’s lip curled in a snarl. “Yes, I can, and I just did. I am your superior officer, Rogers, and you have no idea what a Level Seven agent is actually legally capable of. As of today, Captain America returns to legend, because his actor is a monster, a base fool and a beast who tore apart a friend and ally without a single shred of remorse. And if you ever try to touch me, Rogers, I will shoot you.” He steps away, face returning to the cold mask. “Dismissed.”

Phil turns to Bruce and walks away from the man he’d just stripped down, not looking back at Steve even once. “Get your bag together. Clint needs medical attention. I’ll try to pinpoint where he’s hiding, and get him to where you can assist.” He takes the stairs, following the aching Clint-shaped hole in his heart, trying to find his archer and not thinking about how much paperwork he’d have to do to suspend Steve (not that Fury would argue).

Natasha steps up beside Phil and keeps pace with him. “I know his favorite places to hide, sir. I bet he went to lick his wounds there.” The first that comes to mind is really close to Phil’s quarters and it’s a 50/50 chance. Either the scent of him will comfort or it will torture… the real question is which is Clint looking for?

* * *

Clint’s vision is hazy with the head trauma he knows he’s rocking right now. To be honest, he’s rocking a lot of injuries that he would rather be without. He hurts almost everywhere and he’s sure that he’s almost passed out more times than he has fingers at this point. His shoulder screams at him over the din of all his other pain. He’s tried to relocate it, but his ribs won’t allow the sudden movement and strength required to do so.

He cracks open his good eye and looks through the vent over Phil’s bedroom. The scent of the Omega simultaneously comforts him and tears into him savagely. A tremor races through his frame and he tries to curl into himself. His ribs (and the size of the vent) protest, but he rests his bruised eye against the cold metal.

A cough comes unbidden and Clint’s whole body lights upon fire. A faint whine of escaped air wheedles out of his throat and he knows that he is truly pathetic. He’s the worst Alpha ever. He can’t even keep an Omega as his. A failure to SHIELD, to his pack, to his gender, to himself… that’s what he is.

Blood dribbles from the corner of his mouth and onto the metal under him but he makes no move to wipe it away. He has about four or five loose teeth as far as he can tell. He’s tallying other injuries when he senses people coming close. He slows his breathing and regrets the loss of the Rage and adrenaline because he’s a lot less numb now and every bit of damage is finally making itself known.

Phil’s not really thinking about where he’s going, just following the achy tug in his chest. He’s not questioning it, and soon enough he can just barely smell pain and blood and.. he’s on his floor? He glances at Natasha then lets them into the apartment, pacing through it then reaching up and letting his fingertips just barely touch a vent grate. “Clint? Please come out. We need to see to your wounds.” He makes his voice calm, hoping that his archer will respond positively to a familiar tone.

Catching Clint’s scent, full of injury, just makes the empty spot in his chest sing out again. He wasn’t even sure when Clint had become a part of him, hadn’t noticed when the younger man had wormed under his skin and settled in, all he knows is the loss is agony, and he wants Clint back. It’s not even worth a mental debate for him. He wants and needs Clint back, close to him again, part of him again. He can only hope that Clint won’t hate him for that.

Phil. Phil’s close and worried and sounds so empty and hurt even though he’s hiding it well. Phil’s here. He came for Clint and he wants him to come out. He wants to take care of him. His Alpha pride scoffs at him needing help from an Omega but he damn-near hisses aloud over it. He’ll take anything Phil will give him. Or at least he would, if he could get his body to comply.

He uncurls a little, moving closer to the grate near the ceiling on the wall alongside Phil’s bed. He cracks one eye open, the other is almost swollen shut and tacky blood seals his lashes together. He shifts and the buckles and zippers of his tac vest scrape over the vent, making noise.

Gripping his arm harder, he shifts a little more toward the vent but now he can’t even hope to get out on his own. His concussion is pretty bad, now that he’ll admit it to himself properly. He opens his mouth to talk, but only a rasps escapes. The thick, dark bruises that ring his throat prevent him from talking any louder than a whisper. “Phil?”

The noise makes Phil jump a bit, but it’s one he knows well, has memorized, from years of Clint being in and out of vents, lurking in the ducts of his office. He moved to his bedroom, realizing suddenly why he’d been able to smell Clint through the vents all this time: the Alpha had been hiding but staying close.

And didn’t that sum up their lives?

He grabs a chair and steps up on it, hissing at the ache in his wrist as he pries the vent cover off. A little light from his room brightens the tight metal space marginally. The Omega’s horrified at the bloody broken mess that is his archer. “Hey.” His voice is gentle. “Hey you. Come on, let’s get you down. Natasha? I need your help. JARVIS? Let Bruce know where we are.”

He needs to touch Clint. He doesn’t care about the consequences and reaches in and lets his hand just barely cup Clint’s face on the side that’s not swollen. And for him, it was apparently the right thing to do because some of the hurt in his chest eases off.

Clint closes his eyes because he doesn’t have the strength to keep them open right then. A gentle touch to his cheek brings him back and he looks at Phil with uneven pupils. “M’ c’ncussion’s got a c’ncussion, sir.” He slurs softly as his eyes attempt to focus, but to no avail.

Phil’s seen just enough to know Steve’s going on suspension at least three months, making a small sound at the hand sliding along his arm and fighting to hold more tears back because he hates it when Clint’s hurt, it always feels like personal failure.

Letting go of his own arm, Clint carefully slips the back of his hand along Phil’s arm to reach out to him. Just touching him brings so much ease and comfort to his insides that it’s almost like Steve never—Steve. Clint jerks his arm back and retreats into the vent, slamming his funny bone on the way. He hisses and scoots back as best as he can, shying away from Phil. Wide, sad eyes catch in the light as he apologizes. “S’rry, no’ m’place. Shouldn’t, can’t…” He curls his hand into his shirt over his heart because it’s not his place. He can’t have this, have Phil. Not anymore.

The pain in Phil’s chest gets even worse when Clint suddenly recoils away from him, and he swears, standing on his tiptoes and stretching his arm into the space to catch Clint’s tac vest. “No. No, don’t you dare! I’ll decide what your place is, thank you. Come on, let’s get you down.” His voice is tight, and he gives up and uses the grip on Clint’s vest to pull, only to yowl in pain and jerk his arm back, looking at his hand and wrist and seeing the bruising spreading. Great.

He ends up reaching his offhand in and grabbing Clint, bracing his elbow against the wall for leverage and pulling. Natasha’s there on a chair, then Bruce is, and Tony, and somehow they get Clint’s battered form out of the vents without dropping him.

Clint’s too… everything—hurt and lonely and aching and tired and just everything—to fight back as he’s dragged out of the vent like a reluctant cat. He’s grateful when he isn’t dropped because everything hurts enough. He doesn’t know how or why, but soon enough he’s slumped on the floor with a handful of Phil’s pant leg in his shaking fist and half of his face pressed against the older man’s thigh.

His mind is rearing in shock to all this whiplash. He never really had Phil, then he lost him, now he has him? He’s not sure. The empty ache in his chest is still there, but the contact is slowly easing the pain and he’s loathe to let go. So into the feel and comfort of Phil’s body, Clint doesn’t notice Bruce kneel next to him until strong, cool fingers gently touch his arm. He turns one blown eye to the man and they just stare at each other until the doctor suddenly wrenches on his arm and forces the shoulder back in place.

Clint presses his face into Phil’s leg and bites back a scream, shaking harder than before. Phil kneels down, glancing over Clint’s face. Clint watches Phil, trusting but wary. He leans back the slightest bit when Phil reaches for his face but he stops and closes his eyes. Phil’s no stranger to broken noses, his own or other peoples’, and sets it right in a quick motion of his hand. “Sorry.” He murmurs softly. Clint only twitches when his nose is reset, but his teeth clench hard. Natasha’s hands Phil a wet washcloth and he shifts Clint to lean into his chest and shoulder, wiping away the blood with his left hand.

It puts he and Clint basically chest to chest, and in spite of the horror of the last twenty minutes or less, in spite of the anger at Steve and the aching pain in his wrist, a little sigh crept out of him as the close contact soothes the hurting empty space in his chest.

“Your wrist is fractured.” Bruce says after a moment, cradling Phil’s right hand in his and looking at the already livid bruising. “Maybe even broken. You’ll need a cast.”

“Worth it.” Phil decided, dropping the washcloth aside and helping Bruce get the tac vest off Clint so they can continue the damage assessment.

“Yeah that was one hell of a fuck-off notice.” Tony is leaning on the wall, watching all of this happen, and shares a look with Natasha before continuing to watch.

Resting a hand on Phil’s upper back, Clint braces himself against him as his body winds down. It’s almost as if he were a puppet and his strings were cut—sort of. He’s bad at metaphors like that. Either way, he’s melting against Phil, the tension of the fight  and pain and loss easing out of him the longer he’s pressed to Phil. “Wha’ happened?” He doesn’t wrinkle his brow, even though he usually would, because his head hurts enough. Talking didn’t help one bit. He might have really fractured his jaw.

Phil shifts as Clint does and ends up sitting on the floor cradling Clint to his chest, moving them carefully as needed so Bruce could continue looking over him for injuries. “I broke my wrist on Steve’s jaw. Then I suspended him.” He’s honestly stunned at how calm his voice is when he speaks.

Clint jerks back in surprise and he has to pull his hand from Phil’s back to cradle his bruised and fractured ribs. He sinks his teeth into his lip to keep himself from making a pained noise as he curls over himself. He can’t believe Phil did that, let alone for him.

“Let’s just say Steve was not expecting it.” Tony said, wincing in sympathy as he watches Clint move when he really shouldn’t. “That said... yes, he went way too far, but I sort of think you should be thanking him, too.”

“Run that by me again?” Phil looks at Tony.

Tony gestured at them with both hands. “Nothing was getting through to you two idiots. But, this did.”

He considered, then settled on flipping Tony off with his good hand.

Bruce gently shifts Clint to look at his throat, already sore enough to reveal how badly bruised it is. His head is tilted a little as his jaw is inspected too. “Any loose teeth?” Clint holds up five fingers after gently prodding each tooth with his tongue. Bruce sits back, “we’ll have to do full body scans to figure out the entirety of the damage, but I can presume that you have fractured or broken ribs, along with your jaw, a concussion—”

“Tha’ has a c’ncussion.” Clint adds, the corner of of his mouth twitching up into a smile.

“Yes,” Bruce smiles at him, “and the obvious bruising that should be checked over for any serious ruptures or hairline fractures underneath. Which is quite likely when it comes to your skull.”

“Nah,” Clint mimes rapping his head. “Hard headed.”

Natasha snorts.

“To medical we go then.” Phil sighs. “Tony, mind giving us a hand?”

“Not at all.” Tony steps over, carefully pulling Clint to his feet and letting Bruce steady him, then doing the same with Phil.

Clint leans heavily on Tony as the older man helps him to his feet. The billionaire turns him just enough to keep his injuries from hurting more. He’s grateful when Phil moves closer to slip in and ease the weight of standing from him as Tony backs off.

Phil gets his good arm around Clint, trusting Bruce to get his other side. “Come on. I need the full tally so I can decide how long I have to revoke Steve’s shield for.” His mouth sets in a grim line.

“So who’s in charge in battle then?” Tony wants to know, moving with them.

“Guess that’d be you, Stark.”

“Oh fuck me, no, I volunteer you for the honor.” He groans. “I barely play well with others, remember?”

“Too busy coloring outside the lines and running with scissors.” Bruce snickers.

“Coloring inside the lines is boring!”

Phil rolls his eyes and stays close to Clint as they walk, well aware that simple physical contact can’t be healing them, but he does feel better when they touch. It’s lessening the ragged severed edges of whatever they’d had before the fight, anyway.

Clint smiles a little goofily and leans in to inhale Phil’s scent. He’s not sure why he didn’t do it sooner, but it’s possibly because he’d been more focused on the fact that Phil had punched his number one hero because he… he wanted Clint.

That certainly throws him for a loop.

He’s not even sure what’s being said because he’s so lost in his own thoughts. He hadn’t even noticed that they’d started walking—which was a mean feat with the twinging pain from his ribs. He stumbles as his head starts to swim. “Bet… betcha were all bad ass mofo on St… Steve’s ass.” Clint struggles to speak. Somehow thinking and responding with simple answers to things is a lot easier than making sentences. “Wh… when y’hit him. Wish I coulda… coulda seen tha’.”

“I’m sure JARVIS has video.” Phil replies, smiling a bit at the feel of Clint pressing close to catch his scent.

“From multiple angles, Agent Coulson.” JARVIS confirms.

Between Bruce and Phil, they keep Clint on his feet, though it’s obvious that a stretcher would probably have been a good idea. Not that Clint would have stayed in it, Phil knows.


	11. In Which All Things Settle to Where They Should Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get the final chapter up! Here it is, just in time to celebrate the 8,000th hit to this fic!

'Medical' for Stark Tower is a room on one of the lab levels, as stocked as Tony can manage, and it’s mainly Bruce’s domain although JARVIS has been known to help. It’s JARVIS that ends up scanning Phil’s wrist and getting it into some kind of high-tech cast while Bruce continues to look Clint over to patch him up, which does lead to them being on opposite ends of the room.

“Should be c’ncerned…” Clint slurs as Bruce lays him down on a table for JARVIS to scan him properly for anything the man might have missed. “Yer a doc, bu’ no’ fer meds-in.” It takes another moment to register that JARVIS had replied a few minutes back and the prospect of seeing Phil punch Steve is enough bribery for him to behave while his injuries are looked over. 

“Your lip needs stitches.” Bruce murmurs as he leans close and gently touches one side to see how deep the cut really is. Clint’s tongue swipes over it out of habit. “Don’t lick it, Clint. You’ll make it bleed again.” It had only just stopped by the time they had reached the ward.

“‘m goo’ a’ bleedin’.” Clint mutters, a tiny smile tugging at the abused lip.

“Yes,” Natasha remarks dryly. “I’ve noticed.” Grey-blue eyes flick over at her and she can see his sheepish look. She knows that he knows that they’ve both destroyed each other’s clothing beyond repair (but Natasha’s clothes tend to be twice as expensive and bled on by Clint twice as often).

Phil swallows back the laugh at Clint being good at bleeding, because yeah, that is, unfortunately, one thing he’s good at. But to be fair, Phil can’t judge. Clint might be a lot better at it but he's not the only one who gets hurt on ops. He stands as still as he can while watching JARVIS controls the thin robotic arms that wrap his into a cast. “Do I have to worry about water?”

“It is entirely water resistent, though I do request you don’t submerge it for long periods of time.” JARVIS replies, the robot arms finishing it up and folding back into the wall where they would be out of the way. The little hands all wave to Phil before slipping into their slots. The AI cues up the video of Phil laying into Steve where Clint can easily see it for when the archer wants to watch the footage. It currently remains paused on Steve's triumphant and Phil's furious face.

Phil looks at the cast, amused. The hard outer shell is matte black with the SHIELD logo in white on the upper half near his elbow. “Thank you, JARVIS.” Fighting the urge to roll his wrist as it’s currently immobilized against that, he steps over to sit by Clint, deliberately catching one of his hands and lacing the Alpha’s fingers between his.

Clint sort of watches the robotic arms that come from the wall as JARVIS talks to Phil. It’s fascinating—and a bit reassuring—to know that if he ever gets hurt in the Tower, he can have JARVIS help patch him up. “Hey J’rvis?” Clint turns his head to look up at the ceiling. His neck twinges slightly, but he has an intravenous and some pretty strong painkillers dripping into his system so he doesn’t stop immediately, “Nex’ time I break a… sumfin… c’nnai have a purple cas’?”

Natasha snorts and doesn’t bother to do much about hiding it. “I think the only reason why Coulson’s cast is like that is so that no one asks to sign it." She sees the “challenge accepted” glint in Clint’s eyes and makes a mental note to hide all the silver sharpies in the Tower from him. Who knows what he’d write while high on painkillers?

“I can customize the casts to any color and stencil any number of designs onto them, however, I think we’d just rather you not break anything.” JARVIS replies gently.

“Seconded.” Phil agrees, looking at Bruce. “So, I’m guessing we’re looking at at least a month of medical leave. I’m not letting him come back until he’s fully functional, mind you. No matter what he says about it.” He raises an eyebrow at Clint, who just grins.

“So, we’re down to four.” Tony says after a moment, hopping up and sitting on an exam table.

“Yes, we are. I have no intentions to let Steve come back during his suspension. But, we’re not alone in our burden.” Phil turns half toward Tony. “Hell, in this city alone we have the Fantastic Four and Spiderman nearby and the X-Men are not too far away either. If we need assistance, we will get it. I’ll make some quiet phone calls to make sure of that.”

Clint blinks slowly and lifts a hand to gently hold his own forehead. “The fuck’m I gonna do fer a month?” He’s barely asked the question before more than one voice responds with ‘heal’. He holds his hands up, “‘kay, ‘kay.” He sighs and regrets it immediately because of his ribs. Suddenly, he dreads having to yawn.

“We’ll be fine. While it would be nice, we don’t need out Golden Boy to function.” Natasha shrugs it off because she won’t be the one to say that she feels a lot safer in combat situations with Clint at her back aloud. It’s a weakness that only Clint got to know, and she had never specifically said it. She knows that the feeling is mutual, and the look she shares with him confirms it.

“We will be fine. It was the three of us for the longest time. We just need to plan accordingly.” Phil nods in agreement with Natasha, and dares to brush a kiss across the back of one of Clint’s hands before releasing it and standing. “Clint, while you’re still awake… I need to go talk to Steve, give him his punishment, and call Fury after. I’ll be back, I just can’t leave these threads loose.”

“Need some backup?” Tony lifts an eyebrow.

“Mmn. No, I don’t think so. JARVIS, what’s Rogers up to?”

“He’s sitting on the balcony with his head in his hands sir.”

“Yes, I think I have this situation handled.” Phil shakes his head.

Clint smiles softly at the kiss to his hand but Phil mentioning Rogers makes his blood run cold. He fights his instinctual reaction to grip Phil’s hand tighter and not let go of him so Phil can stand. He thought he had just earned Phil as his… now he’s losing him again. “I’ll just—” he bites back a yelp when Bruce places a cold stethoscope against his ribs, “—wait here, sir.” He stares up at the ceiling, slipping into his calm, emotionless sniper mask and lets the Omega do whatever as Phil leaves him behind to go talk to the… winner. Clint’s sure that this isn’t going to end well at all, but still… “I trust ya,” Clint murmurs around the lump in his throat. He closes his eyes as his chest aches—and not from his broken ribs this time. He does trust Phil as trust has nothing to do with who deserves Phil. He wishes he were good enough—because he isn’t despite what Phil has said—to deserve an Omega as amazing as Phil is, regardless of the fact that the older man doesn’t even know what a “true Omega” is like. Clint adores him just how he is and has never wanted him to be anything but himself, even when he thought he was an Alpha.

Natasha mutters something low under her breath so just Clint can hear about how he can trust all he wants, she’s going to watch in case she needs to intervene. She won’t give anyone else the time of day. Right now, she needs to protect what Clint and Phil have growing between them before it can get wrecked. She won’t let Steve mess it up again.

* * *

“Give Clint video feed of what’s going down if he wants it, JARVIS.” Phil remarks as he moves through the tower. “The last thing he needs to be doing is panicking.”

“Understood, Agent Coulson.”

Phil arrives back on the top floor, and Steve’s still on the balcony unmoving. He grabs two beers from the bar and steps outside, holding one down to Steve wordlessly.

Steve looks up when the bottle moves into his peripheral and takes it without thinking. “Is Clint going to be okay?”

“Eventually.” Phil sits down next to him, opening his. “Before I rejoined the group, as I actually am, had you met anyone you were compatible with?”

He looks away, then back. “No. Just you." The cast finally catches his eye and they widen comically. "Oh, fuck, Phil. Your wrist. I never meant to hurt you.”

“No. I hurt me, because I punched you. In fact this is all entirely my fault.” He holds up a hand to stop Steve from talking when the Alpha opens his mouth. “Entirely my fault. If I’d had the stones to talk to Clint about what had been between us for years, only blocked by medicine I was knocking back like a junkie, this would never have happened. But I said nothing, and you two fought. And you? You don’t actually want me.”

“Now just wait a damn minute…!”

“You don’t want _me_ , Captain. You’re acting in desperation. You think I’m a last option. I figure you actually like me, as a friend. But you barely know me, and let’s face it, I’m too old for you. Yeah, you’ve been a fantasy of mine for years, but in the end... I have to recognize some things. And I recognize that Clint Barton, standard issue human, fought a super soldier to stand by me, and our history.”

There is a long silence, Steve turning the bottle mindlessly in his hands. “So what’s the verdict, then?”

“Three months paid suspension, during which you will not fight with the Avengers or pick up the shield. After that you return to the team when everyone agrees to it. Including Clint.”

“Three months. I… okay, sir. I guess I’m getting off lucky.”

“You are. I could be court marshaling you, but again, this wasn’t your fault. Not really. And I’ll just have to shoulder that guilt for now.”

“Three months.” Steve stares into the middle distance, his fingers drawing swirls in the condensation of the bottle.

“My recommendation? Go on vacation. Hit a tropical beach, drink all their alcohol and hit on all their women. Or take your artist tablet on a motorcycle ride across the United States… Hell do the latter and write a blog about it.” Phil half smiles and stands. “Honestly, Steve? You need your own identity. You might be Captain America but that’s not all you are.”

“Ouch, Phil.” Steve huffs. He sets the bottle on the ground between his feet and looks up. “...and I would have honestly tried, you know. Declaration rings, courtship. I would have tried to get to know you before even touching you.”

Phil pauses, then sighs. “Yeah, I know, but you lost this fight before it even started. You just didn’t know it. Sorry.” That said, he turns and walks back to Medical and Clint, leaving Steve to brood alone.

* * *

Natasha rounds a glare on Clint to make sure that he is, in fact, watching what had just happened on the screen. “You better have heard Coulson say that, Barton, or so help me, I will ram those words down your damned throat.” She is not going to let them mess everything up. Again.

Clint nods slowly, staring at the screen. When he doesn’t say anything, the video replays (he assumes JARVIS can read Natasha’s mind or something). Phil comes in just as video-him says, “you lost this fight before it even started…” He smiles shyly at Phil and can't help all the hope he can feel welling up within him.

“And I meant every word.” Phil smiles back, almost blushing. He sits down by Clint again.

“Can I just say I love the idea of Steve doing a bike tour of the States?” Tony grins as his eyes focus elsewhere like he's picturing some grand, old black-and-white film. “A little bit of old fashioned soul searching.”

“It’d help the press stay off him as well because sooner or later they’ll notice Captain America is not on the job, and Clint’s hurt.” Phil shrugs helplessly. “Usually I’m all about the spin but in this case honesty might be better.”

“Let’s stick to no-comment because no one will like the idea of him raging out.” Tony shakes his head to clear the image and return to their present reality.

Clint slithers his hand out over the edge of the bed he’s resting in while Bruce continues to poke and prod to take Phil’s hand. The medications to calm him and lessen the pain are working wonderfully and he’s only still conscious because of some extreme willpower. “I like the option where people don’t know tha’ Cap laid me out flat. Can I have tha’ one? I want ta keep my manly, tough image.” He pointedly ignores Natasha’s loud snort.

Phil smiles and cups Clint’s hand between both of his. “I don’t know, I think you’ll still come across as a badass. Being willing to stand up to the super soldier and all. But, it’s not my call. I’ll try to keep it out of the media as long as I can.”

“You need to rest, Clint.” Bruce reminds him quietly.

“What about his head trauma?” Phil asks.

“We’ll have to keep an eye on it, but sleep is the best thing for now.”

“Bet you guys are glad I didn’t buy normal hospital beds, huh?” Tony half-smiles.

Clint mutters darkly something that might have been, ‘damn right I’d stand up to that righteous ass for tryin’ to take _my_ Phil away.’ He carefully tugs on Phil’s hands to move him closer. He rolls his head toward Tony, “I’d comment, but I’m drugged an’ sober-me would regret tha’ drugged me said somethin’ nice to ya.” He looks up at Bruce with hazy eyes when the man started to attach some nodes to his forehead to monitor… stuff. “Tha’s cold.”

“Only a little.”

“A li’l lot.”

Bruce gives him a ‘you’re drugged and I will not lower myself to argue with you as such’ look and wow, since when has Clint picked up on all these subtleties and is he talking out loud?

“Yes,” Natasha cups his cheek from where she stands across from Phil and shakes her head fondly. She sighs at him and murmurs in Russian to rest well in his love’s arms. She would not let anyone else hear her be so soft (an extra bonus is that Tony thinks that anything said in Russian sounds violent and angry. His reactions are always fun). She returns the dopey smile that Clint gives her.

“Enough threatening him, Romanov. Let the poor guy sleep.” Tony rolls his eyes and holds open the door to the room.

Phil frees his hands long enough to lose his tie and jacket, pull his shirt tails loose, and unlace his boots. He tucks them under the chair he had been sitting in so no one would trip. That done, he sits on the bed and flops down, shifting to share the pillow and tugging Clint in carefully to tuck him under his chin, arms around him. He stares at everyone else defiantly through Clint’s fluffy, fucked up hair as daring anyone to judge him.

Tony for his part says nothing and just smiles.

Clint shifts closer to Phil as a soft rumbling purr vibrates through his throat at their closeness. He’s very happy with this turn of events and is willing to let anyone and everyone know it. He doesn’t even bother to open his eyes when the others leave, he just basks in the warmth of Phil’s body and slips off for a moment of rest and recovery.

* * *

In the end, it is almost anticlimactic, in Phil’s opinion. He called Director Fury the following morning and explained the situation: what had happened and Steve’s suspension. Fury read a riot act for not reporting it immediately, but did lighten up slightly at the injury report for both he and Clint. It wasn't by much, but enough that Phil figured he was only getting a verbal reprimand.

Phil stayed with Clint as he recovered, and it was Jarvis who told them that Steve had left the tower, simply slipping away on his bike without really attempting a goodbye. Apparently, he’d taken the bike tour suggestion to heart. Phil hoped that Steve found himself during the trip, or at least found what he was actually looking for.

For Phil, he was just glad in a strange way to not be hiding anymore, and glad he didn’t have to look anymore. He’d found exactly what he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank everyone who has left kudos and comments. Thank you for being there for us and making this journey in our 'verse.


End file.
